Ginnungagap
by Anyanka Jenkins
Summary: Forced into a marriage with a man she fears, Izabel must choose between changing him or falling in love with a stranger. Ginnungagap has been rec'd by The Other Realm.
1. Chapter 1: The Servant

**All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer, I just like to play around with her characters. ;-) They may get a little chilly with what I have planned for them. **

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I lie here in my bed thinking of those big moments that people have in their lives: births, deaths, and marriages. Tomorrow morning, I am to be married. I will become a wife and my kingdom will once again have a king. Like most brides, I am unable to sleep – nervous with anticipation. However, I believe I may have greater cause for anxiety than most brides. I barely know the man that I am promised to, and from what I do know, I dread the very thought of him as my husband. No matter what my personal opinion of this man may be, this wedding must proceed. I have a responsibility to Dagez, my kingdom, to ensure that the people of Dagez have a king to lead and protect them. Further I know that I must consummate and provide my kingdom with an heir to the throne. This is the burden of the crown – our personal desires and opinions must come second to the good of the realm.

My father – the only King I have ever known – died but two days ago after a short, but valiant battle with pneumonia. His deathbed is still warm, his body not even committed to the ground yet. Tears of mourning lined my cheeks as, just a few hours ago, I was crowned Queen. It's strange for me to think that in four days I should experience three of my life's biggest moments: the death of a beloved father, my coronation as the Queen, and then – only hours from now – I will become the wife of a man I despise.

My intended is fifteen years my senior, a Jarl. His father, Aaron, was my father's friend and most trusted and longest standing advisor. The arrangement was made when I was but a few years old. All my life I knew that I was intended for this man, Jarl Yåkov. Regardless, I had rarely spent time with him. When we would attend celebrations and other formalities, I would notice the way he bullied his attendants and even his personal attendant. I felt dirty after being around him, so I had always rejected his invitations for private dinners and picnics. I had always put off spending time with him as I always anticipated that my father would change his mind about the arrangement or that I may find a more preferable suitor. Now I know that will never happen and what was once a long way off has suddenly arrived. Like sands of an hourglass, time slipped away.

As I pondered this, biting my bottom lip, I considered the hope that my father would produce a male heir, or that I would find someone I preferred as a husband before this day came to pass. However, I had not, and the day had arrived all the same.

Now, I was to marry him.

Someone I did not like.

Someone I did not love.

Love is a luxury, something that could not be bought regardless of the riches the crown afforded us; love was a sacrifice that someone in my position would willingly give up for the betterment of the people. The sun's warm morning light leaked through the drawn curtains of my chamber, I rose and stretched my limbs, having not slept they are tight and sore. My skin still soft from the preparations in the bathhouse after my coronation, all that remains is to dress and begin the ceremony and three-day feast. My attendants enter the room and bring my dress to me, pulling it over my head and down the gentle curves of my body. There is a simple keyhole neckline with a black braid thread; the dress hugs my upper body, following the swells and valleys of my frame, before falling loosely from my hips. The warm forest green contrasting richly with my porcelain skin and fair complexion. Another attendant gently brushed the tangles from my hair, allowing it to fall past my shoulders to the middle of my back in loose chestnut waves. The women give me leave, allowing me a few moments to collect myself before the ceremony is to begin.

Sighing, I stared at my reflection in the mirror - the loss of my maiden role evident in my image. Gone was my kransen, the golden maiden circlet, a thick braided band with silver woven with garlands and speckled with thick golden leaves, all meeting to dip into the center of my forehead. My attendants took this symbol of my maidenhood, and reverently wrapped it in a soft cloth to store for the next daughter in our line. Drawing a deep breath, my eyes focused on my new circlet cushioned on a pillow awaiting the ceremony. This new circlet symbolizes my new status as a wife, passed down to me from my own mother. Equally as beautiful and special to me, this heirloom bridal-crown is made with silver; with pints alternately ending in clover leafs and crosses, with a garland of black and green silk cords. The colors are those of the Crown's family crest, woodland green symbolizing the magic of life, fertility, and passage between worlds, with a deep night sky black symbolizing the magic of all potential, knowledge, and the royal family as containers of light. Idly I wonder, is this same dress my mother wore when she married my father? Did she have apprehensions regarding their union? Or did she know him, love him already? Memories of my mother from my childhood flit through my mind, bringing tightness in my chest as fresh, hot tears threaten to spill from my eyes. A brisk knock breaks my revere, bringing me back to the present, and a small yet firm voice from the other side announces the time has arrived for the wedding.

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It had been two months since my wedding, a marriage in name only. Thankfully, he did not insist that I share his bed with him, save that first night. The first night is an evening I would rather not linger on, for fear of remembering it. I had expected the act to be loveless; however I had not expected him to be so forceful or uncaring towards me. When finished and the witnesses departed, I gathered my evening gown and left the room, my bare feet ran across the stone floors towards my own chambers. Upon arriving to my rooms, I sent for my most loyal servants, and then bolted the doors shut.

I had taken great pains to avoid my new husband at all costs, not wishing to draw his attention to myself. Thankfully, Yåkov had already selected his concubines, who kept him entertained. Our paths had not crossed since that first night; however this day he had summoned me to him. Warily, I sent a reply that I was feeling ill and requested his leave. It was not proper for a Queen to refuse a summons from the King; however I was not yet prepared to see him again. Minutes passed without a return reply, then an hour. Satisfied that I had been excused from the summons, I removed my clothes and lay on the silken bed in preparation for my evening massage.

Since my wedding, I had taken to a massage to relieve the stress that gathered in my muscles, making my back feel tight and achy. Around this time each day, a low fire would begin to build between my shoulder blades, slowly crawling down my spine, gathering in the base of my back, slightly above my hips. Left unattended, the pain would begin rolling through my middle, into the tender dips between my thighs, in my belly, and a dull throb would pulsate in my lower back. Regardless of the discomfort, I only allowed my most trusted servants to attend me in this intimate manner.

I closed my eyes, settling into the softened linens and heard the door to my chamber open allowing a cool draft to dance throughout the room, sending shivers down my limbs. The door slowly closed again, and was followed by strong steps pattering against the stoned floor. "Ahem, your highness," the distinctly male voice called.

Lazily, I turned my head so that I could face the owner of the velvet voice. The man was about my age, perhaps a little older, his head covered with a dark thick wool material; strange amber eyes practically glowed from the shadows of the hood. His strong, tall stance really enhanced his lean muscles and curiously bright amber eyes. I blinked, clearing my vision and focused upon the strange man in my chambers. Clothed in a dark burgundy kyrtill lined with deep golden braided thread, the fabric stretched tightly across his chest, whispering of the plains and tight muscles found beneath the fabric. The square line of his under tunic peeked out from the neckline, revealing a black fabric the mirrored the night sky. His over tunic stopped mid thigh, and tight, dark leather trousers covered his legs, with burgundy wrappings covering his calves, the toes of his leather boots peeking out. My eyes returned to his face, taking in the dark wool cloak and hood he wore, shadowing his face, his strange amber eyes shined brightly from their shadows. "Sir, these are my private rooms, may I inquire why you are here?" I kept my voice steady, so as not to betray my worry that my husband has sent this man to fetch me.

"I do apologize Your Highness," he bowed deeply at the waist and then stood, "My name is Jarpr, and I am a servant from the realm of Tyr. I have been sent here as a wedding present from King Vanir. The throne has sent me here to assist you. I will be your servant."  
I clutched the thin sheet closer to my body in modesty as I considered his words. The kingdom of Tyr sat to the East of Dagez, the two kingdoms separated by the mountains. For more than a generation, our two kingdoms remained at peace with one another, on friendly terms. I recalled a present that Tyr had sent in celebration for my parents' wedding; apart from the swords they had given one another in their wedding ceremony no other gifts had ever been mentioned. "Er, thank you, however all of my servants are women, outside of personal guards, I really do not have any male servants nor would it be appropriate for me to take any," I smiled apologetically and hoped he would return to the throne for reassignment.

"Ah, my lady, but I am a eunuch, you need not have concerns about me. Surely you have been served by eunuchs before?" Again he bowed deeply at the waist; this time however, his head was raised as he looked at me and smiled. No, he did not smile – he smirked and it utterly dazzled me. His confidence was nearly mesmerizing; unlike any servant I had ever met.

"Oh, of course," I murmured.

I was suddenly unable to recall my previous objections and found myself desiring his touch. As though he had read my mind, he rose from the bow and then stepped forward again, hands outstretched. "Milady, are you ready for your massage?" His arms reached for the heated massage oils as he sat near me.

"Yes, thank you," I replied as I turned to lie face down upon my bed. He approached and, with amazing and silent agility he was beside me, and I felt his hands as they removed my garments, revealing my bare back to him. I felt the warm oils on my back first, followed by his strong hands and knowing fingers. My skin hummed where he touched me, an electric shock penetrating my skin, leaving hot gooseflesh where his touch had previously been. Warmth spread through my body, twisting low into my belly, tightening my nipples, and blurring sweetly around the edges of my limbs. The reaction of my body to his touch was unexpected, shocking even.  
His fingers pulled the muscles from my spine, the tips of her fingers applied the slightest bit of pressure and knots began to unwind. Oddly his skin was cool to the touch, yet I found myself too enthralled with the pleasurable sensations of his knowing hands, and dismissed the thought quickly. Within just a few short minutes, the muscles in my back softened and relaxed, I was amazed. "How did you learn to do this?" I inquired of him.

He was rubbing the oils into his skin and onto a cloth as he replaced each of the massage bottles to the shelves. "Generations ago, while upon a journey of self exploration, King Vanir, discovered puruşātha, which teaches us the four pursuits of life, one of which is sensual pleasure. In this teaching, we learn about sensual touch – or massages." His voice was soothing, deep and rumbling low in his throat, his breathe hot on my cooled skin.

"That is amazing, as a serf that you received such an education. Have you always been a servant or did that come later?"  
He chuckled darkly, the sound of it so odd that I stole a glance at his face it was dark and humorless. "I have always been a servant," he shook his head and then returned his attention to my back. Long fingers dug gently into my sides, pulling the muscles and further relaxing them. A low moan escaped my lips and I instantly felt embarrassed by my primal reaction to his touch. Blood rushed to the surface of my skin, heating me further, and pooled in my cheeks, throat, and the swell above my breasts.

The air was thick with silence and the tension between us, neither of us wanting to be the first to speak. "How does your back feel, Highness?" he whispered, his voice was guttural and hoarse.

"Fine. Better. It feels better now, thank you Jarpr."

A shift in the bed signaled his departure from my side, I heard the clinking of the massage oils as the bottles were collected and put away. "Is there anything else you require my Queen?"

This was too soon. Our time together was but a moment. Now, his task was done and here he was requesting his leave from me. Unable to fathom why I felt so attached to this serf, yet not caring, only willing him to remain with me. His calming influence and the curious hum of my body in reaction to his, a safe haven. My mind raced, searching for something to keep his intriguing presence near me, his ability to both excite and calm me, to cause my body to burn at his touch, and chill at his absence. However, there was no reason to keep him with me, closing my eyes and turning my head away from him I evenly replied, "No, you may leave now."  
Retreating footsteps echoed in my chambers as he crossed the distance next to me, to the door exiting my rooms. The door clicked open softly, the hinges squeaking in a light protest. Pausing, he turned back towards me, "I will see you in the morrow." Then he was gone.

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**A/N: This story will be a slow build, so bear with me while we wait for our favorite Cullens to appear. So what do you think? Do you think Tyr and Dagez are in trouble? Reviews are better than a sensual massage from Jarpr and reviewers will receive a sneak peak of next week's chapter. I will be trying to update once a week preferably on Tuesdays as it's my day of "rest" from course work. See you next week!**

**Edited: For some reason FF uploaded the older version of this file, so even if you're already read this chapter, you may want to re-read for missing sections. **


	2. Chapter 2: Nightmares

**I don't own the characters, sadly Stephenie Meyers does. Twilight isn't mine, but everything else is. :)**

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The sky rained fire; the blazes rose higher and higher around me. At first, the puffs of smoke meandered through the sprawling courtyards, between the soldiers, under doorways, and through the cracks in the castle walls – like a braided stream trickling through the low plains. But the smoke grew increasingly thick and black. It engulfed me until I had no choice but to flee or stay in my chamber and suffocate. I ran out blindly, stumbling, coughing, and feeling my way along the corridors and steps. Screams surrounded me from every side, roaring in my ears, deafening me. I stumbled into the courtyard and fell to the cobblestone ground. I struggled to regain my senses as I crawled forward, away from the smoke bellowing from the castle door. I coughed and sputtered and gasped for clean air, my eyes stinging with tears. I struggled to regain my bearings, willed my knees to stop wobbling and knocking to together, and pulled myself to my feet, though my heart was still racing and thundered in my ears.

The scene before me was hazy, with colors were distorted into various shades of gray. Men and women ran in different directions, soundlessly screaming, and their faces a blur. My mind was unable to focus on any one point, any one person, unable to match the sounds of their screams or cries, with the images to which I bore witness.

My body ached all around me yet I felt strangely numb. Suddenly I realized that my clothes were torn and dirtied, and – worse – stained with blood. Whose blood was this? Was it my own? Was I injured? Dear gods, was this the blood of someone I knew, a servant or a dear friend? A dark thought birthed itself in my head, penetrating my consciousness, hopeful and ashamed in the same instant: Was he dead? Could I be a widow? The hope took flight inside me, pumping adrenaline through my veins. My heart took flight, a powerful burning sensation coursed through me, I stumbled forward, eager to discover the answers to these questions.

As I overcame my unsteadiness, a new sound grew steadily louder, overwhelming the sound of my heart pounding in my ears and the sounds of the screams all around me: The sounds of thousands of hooves pounding the ground as an armed cavalry stormed to the castle keep.

Hooves pounded the ground relentlessly, and through the smoke, I identified the crests of a foreign kingdom displayed prominently and proudly on the shields of the invading army. With dizzying speed, the cavalry and accompanying foot soldiers surrounded me, forming a wall of mean around me. Their swords were unsheathed, readied, and their bodies tense in preparation for an attack. They were all shouting, making it impossible for me to understand any one of them.

Then a deafening voice boomed a single command to the troops gathered around me, "HALT!" and their shouts fell silent. The voice rang clear with authority. The wall of soldiers before me parted and a man stepped through the circle. The visor of his polished helmet hid his face and reflected the light from a nearby flame. Obviously this man was their leader. His men each took several steps back from me as he advanced towards me. I wanted to back away from him, place distance between the two of us. The urges to run and escape were almost overwhelming. As Queen, I owed more to my people, to demonstrate our pride, courage, and sacrifice. Forcefully, I jutted my chin outwards, raised my still unfocused eyes towards the man, and stood proudly as he closed the distance between us. "Your Highness, you have been hard to find. I assumed that you would be locked securely away, protected from my men," His voice was filled with frustration at the challenge I presented him. "No matter, we have found you now."

His hand shot out from his side, reaching out towards me, which drew my attention to his jupon, crested tunic pronouncing his position of nobility and royal bloodline. The crest is dirty from battle, muddying my view of it, however I make out a dirty silver or gold edging against the dark tunic, the surcoat containing a red emblem, or was that blood? Inside the emblem were three images - a lion, palm, and something else that was blurred by the dust and blood speckled across his chest. I was shocked. This man before me was a King or Prince unlike the man I called husband. This man braved the front lines of his battles, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with his men, rather than staying safely guarded within a protected envoy. More surprising, this King or Prince had come specifically for me, sought me out, and was now reaching for me.

Nausea swept through me as I realized the implications: he needed me. "Oh gods, no. Please, no!" My resolve weakened as I tripped backwards, stumbled over my feet in my hasty retreat, only to back into the cold shield of the soldier behind me.

For a moment, I took my eyes off the invading nobleman to face the soldier that I had nearly knocked over in my clumsiness. I thought of how my father used to tell me, sarcastically, yet lovingly, that I had "all the grace of a newborn calf." I felt flushed by the embarrassment of exposing my lack of coordination to these invaders. When I turned my gaze back to the royalty to my front, he stood less than a foot from me. A whimper slipped from me as his hand, already stretched towards me, grasped my arm and pulled me roughly into him.  
His voice was deep with smooth timber and a control that disguised his intentions and feelings. He breathed hotly into my ear, the sound of his voice dulled as the blood rushed through my veins. Suddenly my knees buckled below me and the ground raced upwards to meet me.

I shot straight up in bed, slick with the thin film of sweat. My nightclothes clung to my now cold and clammy skin. My chest heaved as I gulped in air, my throat dry and sore from my screams, which had awoken me from the nightmare. It was still dark, my rooms illuminated only by the dying flames in the hearth, and the solitary candle at my bedside. Thankfully, my bed was empty and I was alone. The castle appeared to be as it was prior to my disturbing dream. There were no soldiers, no smoke or fires, and no screams aside from my own.  
The door to my chamber opened and a lantern entered, followed by a dark shape. My breathing hitched as the shape drew closer; the shadows hid the face behind the lantern.

"Highness? Are you okay?" My body sagged in relief as I recognized the voice of the new servant, Jarpr. His presence was inexplicably soothing, a balm for my raw nerves.

"Jarpr, oh thank gods. You startled me," I whispered, my throat still sore from the screaming. In the darkness, my eyes strained to find his face, to match his now recognizable features to that of his voice. "Come near, I cannot see you plainly," I half commanded, half pleaded in a hot whisper.

Footsteps drew closer to me, the bed dipped signaling his body closer to mine, and his hand hovered over mine, "I am here, Highness." The lantern, now much closer, glowed warmly upon his handsome face, illustrated by knitted brows, strange eyes, and lips turned down. "Are you well, Highness?"

I nodded, my throat still sore, "Water, please. My throat burns," I whispered. His body withdrew from me, my body painfully aware of the absence of his closeness. In the night, my body pulled in his direction, gravitated towards him by forces unknown. My heart fluttered in its cage, my mind confused at this continued strange reaction.

Jarpr swiftly returned, with a tankard in his hand, filled with cool water. I thanked him and greedily gulped the liquid down to ease the discomfort flaming in my throat. "Thank you, that is much better."

He nodded, his hands hovering near me, "May I help you relax Highness?" I nodded, suddenly aware of how my body ached for his touch. "Lay down," he instructed and gestured to the soft bed beneath me. I sank into the soft and warm bedding, my body tense with the anticipation of his touch.

Then he touched me.

His cool fingers patiently and carefully kneaded the tight muscles and knots in my shoulders, ghosting over the materials of my dressing gown. My eyes slid closed, and I relaxed into the bed as he continued to work over the hard knots in between my shoulder blades. My skin hummed with the odd electricity that shot through his fingertips.

Finally, my mind drifted. It was anchored on Jarpr, but also entertained thoughts on how his King had given away this servant, as easily as one tenders a sword or cattle to another. The thought angered me, and I could not decide if it was because one person had been offered to another the same as property, or because that person was this stranger who calmed and unnerved me. Curious about the man settled adjacent to me, I inquired, "Jarpr," I murmured, "tell me more about your life and where you live."

For a moment, his hands stilled, and then resumed running his fingers along a soothing circuit over the curves of my back. He sighed. "Tyr is a beautiful and diverse country. It would be difficult to know where to begin."

I murmured in acknowledgment. This small token seemed to prompt him to continue. "Ours is a culture with traditions very similar to yours. We're in a period of prosperity, so the King often hosts parades and celebrations to recognize those who have ushered in this current era. Our resources are plentiful. The farmlands are fertile. The hunting and fishing are bountiful. There are mines and rock quarries in some of the outlying areas that I have heard are producing at record levels."

As he spoke, he became animated, gone was the impassionate mask and its place a young man who clearly loved his homeland. He continued in his description of Tyr, "There are beautiful ruins throughout the realm, cairns as tall as a giant," he chuckled to himself, "I've even heard whispers of stories that the gods made them."

Intrigued, I asked, "Tell me some of those stories."

"These stories seem to have manifested and evolved based upon the storyteller. I have heard these stories told to the children of the villages by mothers attempting to scare their young ones into obedience, and even by the Thanes and Jarls at court, seeking to entertain guests and foreign dignitaries. My favorite is a tale as told by a seer, his telling of the gods of the realm take on ethereal feeling. The seer told of how Ansuz the Father, the original god, created others like himself, a family of gods. Ansuz was the singular god, and yet alone. He created a wife for himself and mother for the family he longed for. Her called her Berchta, and she is known as the Mother God - she loves and cares for the Åésir, which is the family of gods created by Ansuz. Berchta also cares for the humans of Tyr, watching over them as our great Mother. Ansuz created three sons for himself, and two daughters. The god Uruz, who tried endlessly to create mountains he would be unable to move, and would create thunder from the sounds of wrestling with these mountains." Jarpr laughed deeply here, amused at the story he recreated for me, "It was only when he created the Isa range of mountains, did he met his match. Do you know this range? It is the range that separates the realm of Tyr from your kingdom, Dagaz."

"Yes," I murmured, "I know these mountains, Father named me after them and told me often that as Queen I was to be like the mountains, a protector of my people and unmovable in my dedication to them. We were supposed to travel to the mountains this spring together ... but ... I have never had the opportunity to look upon them with mine own eyes."

"Mmm, well they are beautiful. The base of the mountains has been generous to the people, providing protection from the winters and an abundance of crops. Several temples have been created to worship Uruz the mountain god there. The mountain is especially abundant in black bears, which the people see it as an offering to the god, for the protection of the people. Highness?"

The smooth timber of his voice lulled me to sleep and my lids slid close as his fingers continued their relaxing ministrations. My limbs became heavy and I felt them sinking into the bed beneath me, and I was somewhere in that place between consciousness and dreams when I felt him move from the bed. Then I was alone.

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**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed Chapter Two! Reviews are better than a bedtime story with Jarpr while half naked. ;-) Remember, reviewers receive a sneak peak of the next chapter! I'm also looking for a banner for my story, if you make one for me and I choose it, I'll send you a complete chapter a few days early. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: The Maze

C/N: I apologize for the extreme lateness of this chapter's posting. :( RL has been kind of crazy and before I knew it, months had passed since my last posting. Things seem to have settled down again and I'm looking forward to getting back on schedule. :)) We returned home last week from our last trip of the year - Disney World (we are huge Disney nerds). I got to take some time in Norway (Epcot: World Showcase) to explore a bit and get more ideas for the details of this story. Wishing I had gotten some kind of viking gear while there ... We got in line for the Malestrom ride and OF COURSE it shut down as we entered the boat. That's just our luck. ;-) Next visit Norway will get more time and attention. A big thank you to those still following this story (and my other stories). With the kids back in school and returning to a more normal schedule, I'll be able to pick up writing again. So THANK YOU again and again, I appreciate you.

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Chapter Three: The Maze

Too soon the morning sun shined brightly through my drawn curtains. I moaned as I rolled over in the bed, my eyes shielded from the offensive light. The sun had risen, and the day waited. The covers felt heavy and warm against my body, every nerve in me cried out to stay snuggled warmly within their confines, while my mind reminded me of my daily duties. My hands balled into small fists and rubbed briskly at my tired eyes, as if tugged at by invisible strings, my elbows drifted upwards past my hand, and my arms slowly stretched to their full length. My fingers uncurled as my arms extended until they brushed against the large wooden headboard above me. The wood was cool and smooth to my touch, and a slight chill ran down my spine from the tips of my fingertips. I shivered; then after I inhaled deeply, shoved the covers aside and lifted my back from the bed. My legs swung effortlessly over the side of the bed, my feet dangled inches above the ground, my toes pointed as feet tugged at my ankles, then to my calves, and finally my thighs - pulled them down towards the cold, tiled floor in a languid stretch.

The room was balmy, chilled by the evening yet as the sun crept up the sky heat seeped into the room. The thick sheepskin rug greeted my chilled feet, the curly wool danced around the back of my heel, into the arch of my foot, and between my toes. A giggle escaped me as the longer pelt tickled my feet as I shuffled over the rug and towards my wardrobe. My feet met the hard stone of the floor then, and my laughter subsided. The doors to my chamber remained closed, my handmaidens had not yet entered. Curious I wondered when the curtains had been drawn and why had I not been awakened?

I walked decisively towards the oversized wardrobe, the beautifully dark knots in the wood formed intricate patterns that seemed to hypnotize as I stared at them. They swirled together, creating a beautiful pattern throughout the massive furniture. My arms flexed as I pulled the heavy doors open, my clothes divide simply into three categories for me - training, sleeping, and my Queen's robes. Underneath the unusually high bottom, just below the where my dresses tickled the floor, was a hidden compartment. This compartment contained the outfit of a Pujårb, a poor merchant woman, with worn yet warm rust colored hustruline covering for my head and neck. I pulled the training uniform from my wardrobe and placed it on the stone bench nearest my person. Fabric pulled at my skin, as it separated from the dried sweat, the gown felt dirty and I laid it in the opposite wardrobe for my handmaidens to clean later.

Handmaidens, I had not seen a single one that morning, and I wondered why they stayed away. While I rarely allowed them dress me, each morning they would enter my chambers, throw the curtains wide, and bid me good day. Their company was always enjoyed and as such, they served as my closest friends and confidants. I was not left pondering this long, when the doors opened loudly and the thick wood banged against the stoned walls. Expecting my handmaidens, I turned slowly to meet the intense gaze of Jarpr; he looked different in the day's light with almost a glow about his tall, lean body. I tilted my chin upwards to meet his gaze, "Good morn, Jarpr." The cool morning breeze wafted in through the windows, the edges of the thick curtains billowed, and the balmy air reached my bare skin covered only with undergarments, a reminder of my nakedness. My heart pounded in my ears, my earlier chilled skin felt aflame, "Jarpr, please turn round," I instructed, my voice even, not betraying my flustered state.

Silently, Jarpr nodded his head, and turned quickly on his heel, his broad back now filled my vision. I pulled the wispy bone colored linen over my arms, the front of the tunic laid open in wait for me to wrap the material about my torso and to secure in a firm knot. The sleeves were long, the fabric ran from my shoulder to the tops of my knuckles, with a small hole in the thumb secured to my hands. The material hugged each swell and dip of my form and the bone leggings were equally as snug. "You may turn round Jarpr." Again I sat back upon the thick bench while I slipped the flat brown leather boots onto my feet their tops reached right below my knees. Ignoring the silent man in my room, I stood and took several large strides to my bedside for my ivory comb. Irritated, I pulled the teeth through my long tresses, pulling and yanking at the stubborn snarls and knots in my hair until the comb ran through the long strands without protest. Satisfied, I piled my hair high on my head into a tight coil and stabbed through the middle of the bun with a long pin. Jarpr, still silent, remained just inside the doors, his face impassive. "Ready, Your Highness?" I nodded and walked briskly past him.

As we walked towards the sparring room, my mind wandered. Why did Jarpr affect me so? In his prescience, I forgot how to breath while my heart pumped wildly in my ears and my skin hummed with some unknown anticipation. Focus, I reprimanded myself, he is a servant; a servant from a foreign land. I knew nothing of the man who walked beside me – of his life before this new assignment a human gift to the neighboring kingdom. Had he known his family? Were his parents or perhaps his siblings thralls as well? Had he been sold for a debt? Frowning, I reconsidered that errant thought – no, he had said he had always been a servant, surely that meant he was born into slavery. As a princess in the kingdom, I had grown up around servants and thralls – it was normal, natural, and the culture of our kingdom. And yet, none of their plights had interested me as that of this stranger. My sisters and friends – my handmaidens were slaves themselves, paid not for their services, but rather lived with me in my chambers, attended my needs, and cared for me. They were not free to leave – yet I never questioned their want to remain with me. This slave, had he wanted to remain in his lands or had he wanted to see new and exciting lands, people – perhaps viewed this as an adventure?

Why do you care?

I don't know.

Deep in thought, I failed to take notice of our arrival to the large sparring area in the back gardens of the castle. "Highness?" Jarpr's voice sounded distant, detached, yet commanded my focus back to the present.

I looked more closely at the man to my side; his eyes gave nothing away – his face impassive and almost blank, while his eyes remained alert. Clearly, he was aware of his surroundings, of me – yet there was something about his face, his darkened eyes that seemed to glow the night before and the shadows birthed from his hood that danced around his face warned of something almost otherworldly. His outfit was the same, yet his clothes did not look slept in. We stood in the shadows of the sparring walls, and his form did not have the same glow about it as before, yet my body hummed at his nearness all the same. Who was this man?

"Highness, I bid your leave," Jarpr bowed fluidly at the waist and waited my reply.

"You're dismissed," he rose and turned away from me; I watched his figure disappear before I turned to walk into the sparring area. My ancestors had designed this area to train our elite guard as well as the high clan, the story passed through each generation that over a hundred years ago King Kiev, the first king of Dagez, had traveled to the palace of then newly formed Tyr. Their castle was located in the village of Reykjavík nestled between the warm sod houses and a bustling marketplace. As a gift of the alliance pledged between the lands, King Venir had gifted Kiev training. The training was said to be that of the gods.

Upon return, my ancestor had constructed a large maze with places to hide, traps, and open areas that left the trainee exposed yet with room enough to fight. The maze was created so that one would be forced to think creatively – Father had insisted that the difference between life and death in a fight weighed heavily on the ingenuity of the fighters. The idea proved successful as our guard and generations of our clan trained in this maze. Yet, in the previous years the maze had fallen into disuse until I alone was the sole user. To the side of the large stone entrance was a small armory – the weapons were basic knives, swords, shields, and maces; yet I had long ago learned to favor smaller weapons that could be easily hidden in my boots or at my waist over large, heavy weapons that could encumber my speed, balance me, or stealth as it clanged loudly against my body or a shield. Within the maze were weapons of another sort, such as fallen branches, and it was up to the fighter to be able to find weapons in their surroundings with which to defend themselves.

The opponents I faced each morning varied, some from the guard, on rare occasion a Jarl or some other noble who wanted to earn bragging rights at besting me – none had yet earned this honor. I fared better against the nobles, yet relished the brave guards who held nothing back in our hunt and sparring matches. A knife tucked into each boot, I entered the maze. The morning air hung heavily around me and I closed my eyes to breath in my surroundings. I listened – for the footsteps of my opponent, a sword being drawn, or any other noises to give away their position. Nothing.

Not deterred, I walked deeper into the maze, taking the sharp bend to the left and then it's immediate right bend at the fork. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I felt someone near me, yet heard nothing. My footsteps quickened, and the formerly quiet footfalls of my boots now created soft thumps as they hit the grass in quicker succession. I took another bend and found a large oak tree – if I could make it to the tree, I could scout the area and look for my hunter. I lengthened the stride of my legs as I hurried to the tree, mindful of the noise I created that would alert the opponent to my location. When I reached the tree, my arms reached up to a low branch and with a tightening of my muscles I pulled myself into the thick branches to seek its cover and viewed the surrounding area.

Nothing.

There was no one there. Yet my body was on high alert, and felt someone near me – almost as if they were higher in the branches. I tensed, as I peered above, into the branches for the unseen prescience, yet still nothing.

It is not possible that someone was both behind me and now in the tree above me, I would have seen him.

The object of each day's sparring was to make it to the end of the maze without capture or injury. A third scan of the area boosted my confidence and I began to climb down the branches.

I needed to keep moving.

Heart pounding, I reached the ground and raced back to the cover of the maze. I felt hunted, yet had not seen anyone else in the maze – whomever I faced today was quiet skilled in the hunt. I ran as quickly and quietly as possible, kept close to the edge of the maze, and hugged the bends tightly so as to look ahead for my opponent; yet still no one. My heart continued to beat erratically and I feared my hunter could hear it's loud thumps call to him and would reveal my location. From behind me, I heard a loud snap of branches and smiled in relief – finally he had made a mistake. I crawled below a taller shrub and hid behind the leaves and branches.

These trainings were not intended as a race alone to complete the maze, rather to teach strategy – I knew that while I maintained a lead, I needed to know who and what I was up against should I need to turn and fight. Silent observation was the best method to discover strengths and weaknesses. The hunter came into sight then – a guard, not one I was familiar with yet his garb was that of a standard guard.

Weighted leather tunic with fur trimmings hugged the guard's upper body, fur bracers adorned his arms, and slightly loose trousers covered his legs. Thick leather boots protected his feet and produced loud thumps as he drew closer.

Through the cover of leaves and branches, I could see his chest heaving heavily as he gulped down air and surveyed the expanse. Surely he was deciding whether to continue to follow the maze or to turn around and try another path for his pursuit. His feet fell heavily and loudly as he paced indecisively – how had I not heard him earlier? As his eyes roamed back and forth in either direction of the maze, I felt the hair on my neck stand on end again, that presence was behind me again. My teeth worried my bottom lip in the endeavor to remain silent as the guard warred with himself for direction – surely there could not be someone both behind me and in front of me. The presence drew closer – my body hummed in awareness, my blood rushed through my veins and whooshed in my ears, everything felt and sounded so loud surely the guard would find me.

Decided, the guard began tentative steps back the direction he had come, his position lowered as he attempted to soften his footfalls. The guard rounded the corner and I prepared to stand and continue my run through the maze, yet as I began to lengthen my body I felt an icy breathe against the back of my neck. Reflexes took over as I whirled blindly around without thought to my location, and my skin met with sharp branches that whipped my face and arms. I stifled a cry of pain and backed out of the shrubs. The noise alerted the guard who had raced back to me – his feet slapped the grass loudly and echoed within the maze like thunder; his victorious grin quickly faded as he saw my panicked face. "Highness!" he called and increased the speed and length of his step until he was beside me. "Highness, are you ok? Why do you look so frightened?"

My chest heaved as I gulped in air in an attempt to calm myself, "There's someone in there! Did you have a partner?"

Please, let there have been two of them!

"No, Highness, it's just me," he looked to the shrubs I had scurried out from and stepped in front of me; sword extended he made his through until he was on the other side. "Highness, there is no one here," he called.

We walked together out from the maze, the lesson incomplete, yet I was too unnerved to finish. As we exited the maze, I thought I heard a ghostly chuckle next to me, yet when I turned back towards the sound, nothing was there.

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A/N: What did you think? Is Jarpr a spy? Is he an assassin? And what the heck is going on in that maze? Reviews make my day, please leave me one. :))


	4. Chapter 4: The Raven

SM owns the characters. ;-)

Here's a short chapter, the next one will be longer. Can anyone pick out anything Twilight from the new information? Or have any ideas what is going on or will happen? :))

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Chapter Four: The Raven

The guard escorted me back to my chambers. As we walked through the halls, I wondered who would be awaiting my arrival – Jarpr or one of my handmaidens? "You were difficult to find, Highness," the guard shared, "I had been tracking you, yet had not a clue you were so close."

"Yes, you were difficult to locate as well. I did not hear you until the very end, what is your position in the guard?" His ability to be so quiet, almost like a ghost, made me wonder if he was a member in the elite guard – the Varangians, who both protected the royal family and were often sent on more difficult quests for the kingdom, or if he was a member of the Rus guards who were a collection of thralls and þræll or bondsmen – those who had a debt to be repaid. Silently, I surveyed his appearance – he stood at least a foot higher than me, with warm brown hair that grazed the tops of his shoulder in messy waves and tangles. Light brown hair dusted his strong, angler jawline, his nose was neither too slender nor wide but set just right upon his square face. Expressive dark gray eyes animated his face, easily conveying victory in the maze or concern and fierce protectiveness at the hint of danger. The guard was built similarly to other guards with thick, muscled arms that flexed as he gripped his sword; overall he appeared fit and able to fight, his body toned from apparent years of training.

"I am new to guard highness, my family's farm was recently taken and I became a þræll to work to repay their debt," he stated, his tone clipped.

Hmmmm, perhaps his body is toned from years of hard manual labor in the fields or other work.

"I apologize, I thought with your talents, perhaps you had been in the guard for an extended time, were perhaps a Varangian," I realized I did not know his name, "Sir, how are you called?"

"Leif," he replied.

"Leif, has your region fallen upon hard times? Why was your farm taken? Could none of your kin assist to retain the land?" My father had worked at length to assist the karls, or landowners, in difficult times – his lesson to me that the royal family was always at the employ of our people.

My father's court had always heard the needs of the people, from the squabbles and disputes between neighbors to the hardships as the result of storms or harsh conditions. In special circumstances, Father had granted a reprieve from taxes and other debts to farmers until the following harvest. Why had Leif joined the guard rather than make an appeal to Yåkov?

"Highness, are you not aware of the ill fallen to farmers in the regions?" Leif's eyes were puzzled, concerned even – my pace peaked in worry. Prior to my father's death, I had observed resolutions with him, how he had granted assistance of a karl, or to deal with a Jarl – those supported by the karls and whose responsibility was to care for the people of their regions. Had a storm hit our outer regions, had something devastated the karls' crops? "His Highness has raised the taxes, nearly doubled them throughout the kingdom, the Jarl's have been unsupportive and have sent men from their regions to pay any debts in their taxes. I volunteered within my family so they could remain in their home – yet after I departed the Jarl forced them out. My family walked two regions away to our nearest kin who have taken them in, yet there is not enough money to feed so many." His shoulders dropped, and his face appeared weary – as if he had the weight of the world upon his young shoulders. I realized, that to him – he did carry this weight, that it was his burden and that the survival of his family was very much dependent upon him, if he found no way to send money to his family they would surely starve.

"Leif, are many karls in the same position as your family?"

"Yes, Highness, many have lost their homes, their lands; those who have kin to reside with are lucky, yet how lucky they are remains unseen as many of them now have no opportunity to work a land to bring in food, and have no other trade skills and cannot find work. The guard is the brightest hope for money and survival."  
Thoughtfully, I considered these affairs. Did Yåkov know the state of so many of my people? Did he understand his duty to serve them, to assist them in their need? Why had he raised the taxes?

"What of the state of the Rus guard?"

Leif nodded, my question understood and hung between us as he gathered his thoughts, "The guard overflows with new volunteers with more arriving each day," he shook his head bitterly, " the King cannot pay each of them, yet many remain in hopes of a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and mead to warm themselves with at night. A week ago a new volunteer arrived, and a fortnight ago it was discovered she was a woman in disguise. The men," his voice broke in anger before he regained control, "a few of us pulled the rest of them from her, but the damage had been done. She is someone's daughter – she is important to someone and yet what they did to her." His face twisted in disgust and I understood what had happened to the girl, my belly churned and my throat flamed with bile, my steps slowed and stopped as I fought my body for control.

"What of the girl?" I asked weakly.

"A healer attended her, a few of us stand watch by her bed in the longhouse while she recovers, she took quite a beating and we fear they may try again," his words chilled me and I shivered.

"Bring the girl to my chambers, I will have my handmaidens prepare a space for her, she will be safe with me." I paused for my next words required careful precision, "Leif, I was not aware of these problems you have shared with me, and am quite concerned regarding the state of the people. I require your assistance so I may learn more information and work to a solution. In the meantime, I will send assistance to your kin." Guilt washed through me, while I was able to help this one guard and his family, who knew how many hundreds or gods forbid thousands went without any help?

The door to my chambers loomed before us, closed and silent, as I turned to face Leif a final time before his departure, "Come to my chambers each morn and escort me to the maze, during this time I will listen to any information you have gathered for me," he nodded his acquiescence, turned sharply on his heel, and strode down the long hall. Troubled, I pushed the heavy door open to my chambers, the old wood groaned it's protest as the edges scraped along the stone floors. Once inside, I peered around the chambers in search of a maiden, "Valkyrie!" I called, my voice sounded hollow in the large, empty chamber.  
The Valkyrie, the handmaidens to the Queen, measured nine to twelve in total. These women served me throughout day and night, served as my most trusted inner circle, and if required fought alongside me in defense of the royal clan and the people of the realm. The women each wore a circular emblem with a swan, wolf, and raven etched secretly into their linens to symbolize their place as my handmaiden. The swan symbolized their camouflage within my service, only the inner circle of the King and Queen knew of the fierce nature and fighting abilities of the Queen's handmaidens, or even that they were referred to as Valkyrie – to all others, they were handmaidens easily overcome in a battle, no obstacle to those who would attempt to attack a Queen. The wolf represented that pack created by the Valkyrie, working together as a unit, protecting one another, and keeping the secret of their real roles as my handmaidens; the raven reminds each Valkyrie that we are the selected Daughters of Odin – the Father of our Gods who has two ravens of his own. These birds soar across the lands and brought information back to our Father of the gods, they are symbolic of thought and wisdom.  
While Valkyrie maidens are fierce in battle, protective and loyal, we must also be wise. Thoughts of the raven return my thoughts to the maze; the morrow I would conquer it and not be deterred from finishing the lesson. The outcome today was unfortunate, yet had resulted in acquiring my own raven to bring news of my people to me each morn, perhaps the lesson had not been wasted.

**A/N:**

I kept as much of this as historically accurate as possible, some things of course have been played with for the story.

The inner circle of a King were the _hirðmaðr._ The King was expected to provide food and drink to this inner circle, but he was expected to be a leader and CARE for his people as well - not just his fighting buddies. Within Norse culture, the women were indeed very strong and were fighters as well. For this story, some people know the Queen (not just Bella but the Queens before her as well) learned to fight, but it is not common knowledge that she is skilled in hunts, fighting, and strategy.

The Valkyrie were of course real Norse legends, these legends varied depending on the time period. At times they were considered warrior goddesses (Daughters of Odin) who collected the souls of warriors (Vikings) from the battlefield. Later myths stated that the Valkyrie could shape-shift into swans, ravens, and wolves. The swans, if caught, could then be mated to human men. The ravens were linked to Odin's ravens (Odin was AKA the Raven God) and were considered great symbols of strategy and thought. Anything coming together at all? Would love to hear your theories! :))


	5. Chapter 5: The Valkyries

The silence filled my ears and alerted all my senses. Why was my room so quiet? Surely my maidens had returned to the chambers. Yet, nothing. My eyes drank in the main sitting room of the chamber; everything was in its place, nothing out of the ordinary, and yet - my skin crawled. My heart thrummed loudly in my ears and blood sped through my veins and I felt the rush of adrenaline. Something felt …. Off.  
My knees bent as my stance widened into a crouch. The knife from the maze was still securely fastened to the inside my boot and slowly my left hand extended down to grip it's leather handle, my right hand level with my chest and bent at the elbow. I slowed and quieted my breathing - deliberately and deeply in through my nose searching for any scents that did not belong. As I took in my surroundings, I strained to listen for any alerts an attacker may give away.

Nothing.

"I've sent them away," a deep voice explained from behind me. I felt his presence behind me and turned sharply on my heel, one hand still gripped the knife, and the other raised and prepared to shield myself from any attacks.

Jarpr smirked at my from behind his hood, his eyes were a strange glowing amber color in contrast to his pale skin and the shadows from his garb. Slowly, my body lengthened and straightened to my full height, yet still on alert, my body refused to release the knife or lower my arm. "Your Highness, I am not here to harm you. You do not need that," he paused and quietly added, "not that it would do you much good." His voice was arrogant and unexpectedly his quiet comment stung my pride, surely he did not expect a Queen to be a fighter or any match for himself.

"You may be caught unaware, Jarpr." I answered, and a thought crossed my mind - to demonstrate my own ability to protect myself and salvage my stung pride, "Unfortunately I was unable to spar with my opponent today, would you be interested in the challenge?" Jarpr gazed at me intently, seeming to carefully weigh his options. Was he creating a strategy to engage me in a sparring match? Would he be measuring the resistance I offered him as an opponent? Serfs within my kingdom were not trained as fighters, only those members of the guard. Was it possible that while his King educated the serfs such as himself, in some areas they were not trained to fight back, protect themselves even? A surge of anger filled my bones as I considered Jarpr untrained and unable to defend himself in the event of a crisis or battle; shame quickly followed the rush of emotion as I acknowledged that my own people, the serfs and landowners were not trained as fighters either. Our kingdom strongly depended on the guards to defend the people, their lands, and the kingdom. Perhaps he did not wish to fight my to save a measure of his own pride, yet his arrogance spoke volumes of the esteem he felt in his own skills as a fighter.  
"Your Highness, I would feel - uncomfortable with engaging in a match such as this with a lady," his words were considerate, thoughtful, and yet angered me further.

"Can ladies not defend themselves in your homelands? Are they not trained to fight?" My fingers painfully tightened their grip on the blade's handle - my knuckles strained against the tightened skin, the tendons of my hands stretched and elongated, the handle bit against my tender flesh; and I advanced in a low, quick lunge towards Jarpr. I wanted to take him off guard and command his yield. A look of shock crossed his shadowed face, but as quickly as it had appeared, was gone and replaced with a composed mask. My muscles bunched and tensed as I moved forward, my arm prepared for the force of the impact, the knife ready for his throat - I would not harm him, only force his yield and by extension, his acknowledgement that a lady could protect herself.  
In my mind I imagined Jarpr against the thick wooden door, arms at his side, his hood fallen behind his head from the impact, and my knife at his throat. His eyes were wide with surprise as my right arm pressed firmly against his shoulders and the weight of my body pinned him in place; his smooth voice would quietly yield to me. I would hold him there an extra moment, to remind him of both his place and the lethal woman he served. My victory secured in my mind, I felt my lips pull into a smile, so sure was I that in but a few short seconds, Jarpr would feel the sting of surprise and failure. The sweet taste of success was so assured I could taste it on my tongue.  
I was unprepared for the actual events; Jarpr blurred quickly away, in a beautifully lithe dance, his body shifted to the right and then he was behind me. In movements almost too fast to register, I felt a cool breeze as his body swiftly moved behind mine. His arms wrapped around my body, his skin cold and hard - his closeness raised goose bumps along my flesh. Quickly, Jarpr secured my arms to my side and gently squeezed my left hand until the knife clattered to the floor; my struggles and training gained me little ground as his chilled lips lowered to the burning shell of my ear.

"You see, Highness, that knife did you little good," he whispered. His breath against my skin created unfamiliar sensations within my body. I felt him inhale my scent as his grip retained my form against his; my body stilled its protests as it melted along his body in compliance. My heart drummed loudly in my chest, my breathing quickened and became shallow pants, and my hands ached to touch him. What were these strange sensations? Why was I so drawn to this man? In my mind, I fought against the tirade of foreign emotions, reminded myself that this man was not someone with whom to become familiar. Yet, my body resisted, it welcomed his nearness and the feel of him against me, it screamed for him to come closer still, and protested at the thought of withdrawing from him.

As abruptly as Jarpr had captured me, he released me. Quickly, he turned me round to face him; he stood in front of me, rigid and tense as he waited for my reply. The silence lengthened awkwardly between us as my body continued to betray me and screamed out for the return of his touch.

"Highness, I sent your maidens away, I am in need to speak with you - privately," he hastened to add. His previously glowing amber eyes now appeared darker with small flecks of gold and brown lining his darkened orbs. My tongue felt thick and heavy in my mouth, and I dared not trust my voice to reply to his words. As I fought with my body, his eyes narrowed and his hand twitched at his side. "Highness, have you been injured?"  
My hand flew to left hand, the one that had gripped the knife, now forgotten on the floor. There were faint scratches along the topside of my hand - I pulled the long sleeved material up to reveal scratches at my wrist and along my forearm. The scratches themselves were faint, the worst a few angry red welts of broken skin. "It must have happened in the maze, I had crawled through some shrubs, and I must have scratched it then." I raised my hand closer to my face for further inspection, but Jarpr's hand encircled my wrist and with a gentle tug pulled me closer to him. He peered down at my hand, seemingly mesmerized by the angry flesh. His eyes narrowed and his grasp around my wrist tightened. I drank in his nearness and waited for his sweet breathe to fill my senses.

It never came.

He had stopped breathing.

Jarpr was still as a statue, and as I gazed at his shadowed face, his previously darkened amber orbs appeared to melt into the shadows cast by his hood. A chill swept through me, it screamed to my body and mind that I was in danger, yet I could not be concerned. The pale, slender fingers tightened again - painfully and I could not keep the slight whimper of pain from my lips.

The spell was broken - Jarpr immediately released me and took several long strides backwards, his back now against the thick wooden door - just as I had imagined in my vision. My breathing came in pants and I willed my body to move, towards him or away - I did not know, I just wanted to move. "Highness, I must go," the words sounded strained as if he barely maintained control of himself, his jaw set in a rigid fashion.

And then he was gone.

Before I could answer - to release him or to demand his continued prescience, he had left.

I was not alone with my thoughts very long - my handmaidens had finally returned, yet they were not alone. One by one the maidens filed in through the opening to my chambers, each in their plain pale blue dresses that concealed their remarkable natures and strong bodies. Normally bubbly, excitable in the mornings - full of stories, boasts of skill, and challenges among one another - they were abnormally quiet, their faces somber. As the last two maidens entered the room, I understood why. Between their shoulders they carried the maiden Leif had described just this morning. Her age was difficult to guess - her body covered with cuts and bruises, her lips swollen and split, one eye sealed shut with an angry purple and black marking around it. The girl's body was limp, I suspected Nadia and Ava had carried her the entire journey from the guard's long house to my chambers. Nadia and Ava each supported one of the girl's arms around their shoulders, yet the girl's feet barely grazed the cold, stone floors. It would appear to an outsider, that Nada and Ava worked together to support the girl's body; it would likely never cross the unobservant mind that Nada or Ava could support the girl's weight and easily carried her back to my chambers without assistance.

The other maidens, Cata, Ira, Sella, Peta, and Rubi moved quickly ahead to the East wing of my chamber to their lodgings. As each entered through the large arch with the raven carving perched atop the highest point, they ducked their heads and then hurried to the beds. The East Wing was created for the Queen's maidens, a long yet open space with long beds lining each wall - a total of nine beds available. There were only seven maidens in my service, with two empty beds. The girl would be given the bed in the middle - Nada's bed, as it was nearest the fire, she could keep warm while she rested and recovered, and her meals and water would be only a few feet away. Ira pulled the cover down from the bed, she turned and reached for the thick wool placed on the floor at the end of each bed and with care, pulled a hot stone from the outside of the fire pit. She wrapped the stone in the wool, and placed it at the end of the bed under the covers. Ava released the girl's arm from about her shoulders, reached down and with ease pulled her body upwards by the ankles. The girl hissed in protest and pain; her legs looked swollen and bruised and the sudden change in contact must have hurt. Nada walked backwards towards the bed while Ava guided the girl's upper body, and together they worked her gently into the framed bedding. Cata pulled the covers over the girl's body and with care tucked the blankets firmly around her still frame.

It was difficult to know if she was awake or asleep and I hesitated to approach her. We gathered round her, and watched her for any reactions. After a few tense moments, her breathing evened and she appeared to be in a deep sleep. With a slight jerk of my head all but Nada left the room and followed me to the sitting area.

Why had they retrieved the girl? Had the gossip spread throughout the castle during my time in the maze? "Valkyries, why did you retrieve the girl?"

Each face shared an expression of puzzlement, but it was Sella who spoke, "My Queen, did you not want us to retrieve the girl?"

My brow furrowed as I considered the answer, "Well yes, of course. The guard, Leif had informed me of her fate just this morn. I had already informed him we would bring her to my chambers for protection and care. Yet, why were you not here when I returned?"

It was Sella who spoke again, "My Queen, we were not here because we had been sent to collect the girl. We only followed your orders."

My orders? I had given no such orders.

"Sella - "

"My Queen, Jarpr informed us not an hour ago that you wished us to collect the girl and bring her to the chamber - for care and protection as you said."  
Jarpr? How could he have known?


	6. Chapter 6: The Hunt

Any Twilight characters belong to SM. Hope you enjoy! Lots of information in my A/N at the end. Reviewers get a cookie! ;-)

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Days passed, and Jarpr had not returned to my chambers, at least not while I was in the chambers. Conveniently, he seemed to appear whenever I had left the chambers for my morning run through the maze, sparing match, or any other business for which I had been called away. Frustration built inside me, as each day Nada would report his visits and inquiries to the state of the broken girl.

It was the girl who distracted me from my foolish anger, why I bothered with the comings and goings of a servant virtually unknown, was laughable. The girl, however, needed much care – physically and emotionally. Understandably, she was wary of strangers, and being surrounded by eight strangers – albeit women – was concerning for her. The first time she regained consciousness since her transfer to our quarters, she shot straight up – apparently ignoring the pain from her bruised ribs, and pulled tightly into the nearest corner. Too late, she had realized that with each end of her bed connected to another, she had merely backed herself between the wall and Ava's sleeping form. Her screams woke each Valkyrie – including the slumbering Ava next to her. Seven pairs of eyes focused on her rocking form – attempting to hide from the unknown people in the room.

When I entered the room, each Valkyrie had backed away, in an attempt to give her space so as not to feel cornered or trapped. Still, her broken body remained tightly compressed on itself – her knees drawn up to her chest, her slim arms wrapped around the tops of her knees, head bowed down towards her chest – covered by her arms and knees. All the while, we could hear strange sounds coming from her – frightened whispers muffled only by her arms. I worried she would faint again with the stress her body must surely felt, yet she continued to rock – back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

It was Nada who approached the girl. Beautiful in graceful walk, her golden hair that fell to middle of her back swayed with her hips as she moved in her long legged stride. Nada's steps were audible – so as not to scare the girl by accidentally sneaking up on her, but they were also slow and cautious. As Nada inched closer to the bed, she murmured in a comforting voice, "It's okay, shhhh, we are friends, we are here to help," and inched ever closer. When Nada's slender fingers grazed the girl's knees and arms, she flinched but her head rose. Behind those arms, her warm brown eyes peered out to Nada first and met her blue ones, then scanned the group, and then returned to Nada's face. "Hello, what's your name?" she asked softly, it reminded me of how my father spoke to me as a child – usually after a tumble where I had scraped my knees.

Equally as quiet the girl answered, "Johana milady."

Nada rewarded her with a huge grin, "Nice to meet you Johana, my name is Nada – no milady necessary. How do you feel?" A timid smile answered Nada's reaction and the girl sat slightly taller as she assessed her body.

Languidly, Johana straightened and extended her bruised limbs. She winced as her body moved in a rigid fashion, but pressed forward. A series of hisses and winces followed each movement, yet still she persevered. Inspection complete, Johana tilted her face upwards to answer Nada, "There is some pain, but I am sure it will pass mi – Nada."

Nada's shoulder dropped as her head twisted in my direction, the question evident in her eyes. With an affirmative jerk of my head, I stepped forward and approached the small bed. My movement captured Johana's attention and she turned slightly to peer over Nada's shoulder. Returning her gaze to Johana introduced us, "Johana, this is Her Highness, Izabel."

For a girl who had been literally carried into the chambers, whose body had been bruises and broken in several places, her rapid movements to scramble from the bed were quite the surprise. Toes peeked beneath her covers as her legs swung widely across the bed, a low hiss escaped her clenched lips as she scrambled to the floor – her legs wobbled uncertainly beneath her and she fell forward. Yet Nada's quick reflexes caught the girl before any damage was done, her arm shot out and stabled her, then pressed gently against the tops of her slender shoulders with encouragement to lay back. "Shh, Johana, the Queen does not expect you to bow before her, just listen to what she says. Can you do that for me?"

The girl's eyes were wide and obviously frightened, her gaze volleyed between Nada's face and my own, before she nodded her consent. "Johana," I began, "do you know where you are? Do you recall what happened?"

She flinched – memories she probably preferred to forget danced across her face as she answered in a broken voice, "I remember what the guards did. I know not where I am."

My approach was steady and when I reached the bed, Nada rose and allowed me some space to sit near the girl's feet. "You are in my chambers, specifically in the chambers of my hand maidens. I am afraid, we do not know much about you, save the unfortunate events that resulted in your injuries. If you recall who was involved, I give you my word I will see to their punishment." The fire cracked and popped at my side, yet the girl remained quiet, so I continued, "We will keep you here until you recover. Afterwards, you will have a choice. If you elect to remain at the palace, you will be welcome to become one of my servants, however if you prefer to return home we will make ensure your safe delivery."

Tears had welled up in Johana's eyes and she outwardly struggled to rein them in, "I have no family with which to return," she whispered, "they're all dead," her voice broke, a strangled sound as the cry ripped from her chest. Nada returned to her side and pulled Johana into her arms. From side to side, she tenderly rocked the girl in her embrace, cooing her condolences, and whispering how everything would be all right. The tears and sobs subsided and the girl nervously returned my gaze.

"I'm so sorry about your family Johana, can you share with me what occurred?"

A shudder escaped her and she began, "I lived with my family in the village of Northumbria – my father and mother, and my twin brother Alec. The villagers there had always been suspicious of twin births, yet we never had reason to believe anything would happen to us. But when the taxes began rising, and soon the food was gone – they blamed us." She laughed bitterly, "They called us the witch twins. As if we were the cause of the sorrow that had befallen the lands. It was late at night when they raided our home and stole my parents and brother from me – I had hidden below the floor boards when the screaming began, and when the screaming ended, I knew they were gone." Roughly, she wiped at her face and eyes, and then concluded her story; "I came here, disguised myself as a man, and told others I was here to earn money for my family – just like everyone else."

I looked around the long cabin quarters, the faces of each Valkyrie illuminated by the fire, each expression a reflection of my own. Sorrow for this girl – her life had been stolen not only by the guards sworn to protect the people of the land, but by those she had trusted, those she had grown up around – yet abandoned her, abandoned her family in a moment of need. Rather, had been seduced by the mounting anger that had like a fire, been born of kindling and as it grew consumed all in its path. "Johana, would you prefer to remain here, with us? I understand if you need time to consider the offer."

Her voice rang out – stronger than it had been through the whole discussion, "I would like that very much, your Highness. Please, call me Jane – it is how I was called by my family."

I nodded and gently squeezed her hand, "All right, Jane. Welcome to our sisterhood." Only time would tell if this girl would be worthy of the Valkyrie sisterhood, but a sister she would become all the same.

Each day Jane recovered more from her injuries – her progressions from sitting in bed to a few steps around the room were slow but steady. At the end of the first week, I entered the room to find Peta and Jane deep in concentration huddled over a game of Nine Men's Morris. Peta's fingers hovered over a crimson stone while, her face knitted in concentration as she eyed Jane's stark white stones already formed two mills, one stone shy of her final mill. I stifled a laugh as Peta moved her stone diagonally, a grin spread across her lips. Equally as pleased, Jane swept her white nugget to the side and declared happily, "I win! Three mills!"

She giggled as Peta scowled and collected the red pebbles from the side, "Again!" she declared.

"Of course, Peta, I shan't mind another triumph." Both girls erupted in a fit of giggles, their arms wrapped around their sides as they laughed. I observed them silently, a smile danced on my face, happy for Jane's steady progression. Nada stepped behind me and placed her warm hand atop my shoulder.

I tore my gaze away from the happy scene before me and turned to look at her. "Let's go hunt," she whispered.

"Yes, let's!" I agreed. We turned and exited the room arm in arm. The armoire against the far wall housed several bows, arrows, and knives. Heavy doors groaned their protest as we pulled them up and rummaged inside. "Now, Nada, you should bring extra arrows, we both know your marksmen skills are somewhat – lacking," I joked with her, my elbow nudging her side.

"Ah, well Highness, I miss on purpose, I would hate to hurt your feelings by being outdone," she winked at me as she lifted a quiver to her back and then rested a bow to thigh.

I laughed while I filled my own quiver and retrieved a spare knife for any kills we made. Armed, we walked out of the palace together towards our wooded destination.

The walk from the palace grounds to the woods had been a nice one; people milled about, walked here and there and greeted us as we passed. Dressed in our Valkyrie uniforms of leather tunics and leggings with soft boots – my hair braided down my back and concealed by my hood, no one was the wiser as to whom they addressed. I appreciated the anonymity it afforded me, to walk among the people freely and without the excessive bows and "Your Majesty" addresses that followed my status.

As we rounded the path and entered the dark woods, I felt alive and happier than I had been in awhile. Worries melted from my shoulders as I inhaled the late summer air. Nada inhaled the air as well, her eyes slid closed as she took in her surroundings. My dearest friend at my side, the cooling weather, and the prospect of a good hunt made me exceedingly happy.

I ran ahead, thrilled with the wind in my face, careful to maintain quiet foot falls as raced deeper into the forest. Nada's tinkling laughter echoed to my rear and I knew she had also begun her hunt. Ahead stood a tree, older with a large trunk and thick, sturdy branches. I sprinted towards the tree and climbed skillfully to the upper branches.

The vantage point it afforded me was stunning – the green hills lopped in gentle rolls, younger trees swayed slightly in the breeze, and in the distance a small stream gathered into a pond. Yes, the view was amazing. I closed my eyes again and thought of Nada and my pursuits here as children. Her mother had been a Valkyrie in service and had been pregnant the same time as my mother. Nada was almost a month older than me, her mother's waters broke and it was my mother who had sat with her while she labored. Together they cried and screamed and later rejoiced as Nada entered the world. My mother used to tell me I kicked frantically in my womb, sore that I had not be born first. Chuckling as I remembered that even then, we were engaged in fierce competition. Three weeks later, my mother's waters had broken, and her dearest friend returned the favor – held my mother's hand while she labored, screamed with her and even at her when she grew tired and could not push, and finally rejoiced as I also entered the world. From birth, we were inseparable. My first steps came only days before Nada's steps, while Nada's first words were chased by my own only hours later. Our mothers laughed together as our competition grew in all aspects, from who could climb the highest to who could run the fastest or furthest.

The day was like any other when Nada's mother died. We were fourteen years old and out for a hunt, not unlike this one. For as long as either of us could remember, we were educated in the secret sisterhood of the Valkyrie and trained in strategy, taught how to fight, and how to hunt. The hunt we embarked on was similar to that of the Wild Hunt that heralded in the winter. This hunt tested all our skills – survival, strategy, and combat. We were each deposited at the entrance to the woods, albeit different entrances. Our goal was to survive three days in the forest; the only resources were the clothes on our back and one weapon of our choosing. I had elected to bring a bow and quiver while Nada had brought her favorite knife.

Upon the completion of the first night, guards were sent into the forests to hunt my friend and I. Not only did we have to survive the elements, feed ourselves, and find water – we then had to hide or fight the guards who found us. A chuckle escaped as I remembered my Father's repetitive instructions to not actually harm any of the guards.

The first night had been rather effortless, I had found a stream – not unlike the one I observed from the trees today, and drank deeply from it. Deeper in the woods I had found berries and nuts and gathered them for my dinner. I had climbed a tree that night and slept soundly against the branch. The second day, I heard the guard behind me and scrambled up another tree to catch him unaware. He had observed my climb though and had raced to the base of the solid trunk. "I have found you, Little Princess, now come down." His voice was stern and I laughed at his command.

"You have to catch me first!"

So enraptured I was in our chase – me climbing from branch to branch of the tall oaks and him walking below me, that I failed to hear the first few screams. When the screams met my ears, I felt a chill pass through me. My distraction was only for a moment, but it was enough for my fingers to loosen their grip on the wooden arms I had clamored through, and my body entered a free fall to the ground below.

Unsure if it was the memory of my body's impact on the wooded floor or the flapping of wings as a flock of birds flew past me, but my body jerked and removed me from my reverie. Odd, the birds' behavior – normally they do not scatter so suddenly unless in the prescience of a predator. Yet, each bird that had flown high in the sky together then began to scatter from one another, as if they could not depart the forest quick enough, their squawks faded as their forms retreated on the horizon.

The task at hand, to hunt and kill my game before Nada completed her hunt still lay before me. I moved from the tree, the odd behavior all but forgotten. My bow and quiver shifted against my back as I descended the tree in search of game. Deftly, I released my grip and fell the last few feet to the ground. Teeth nipped at my lip as I considered the best path for finding game, I had seen the gathered pool of water and knew this would a water source for many of the wildlife; if I waited my prey may come to me. Hmmm, but how long will that take? Surely Nada will have caught a boar or maybe even a bear by time I've seen even a deer!

Better to track a herd than wait here. I prowled silently through the forest growth, stepped carefully over fallen trees and thick undergrowth until I reached a beautiful meadow. Tall grass danced gracefully to an unheard melody in the slight breeze with beautifully vibrant flowers that peppered the grass. Along the edging of the meadow were several branches that provided shade, and among the shade – seemingly asleep – was a lynx. Its coat had already dulled from the copper of the summer months and begun to fade into a grayish brown color for the winter. The telltale black hairs stood on the tips of its pointed ears that twitched with my approach. I lowered my body to the ground in a crouch and slowly removed the bow from back. Beautiful black spots littered the coat of this magnificent animal and while the fat had yet to build up in preparation of the snow and ice, the skin would still make a warm blanket or coat.

Affectionately, I stroked the belly of my bow – the smooth horn and sinew pleasant beneath my naked fingertips. The scent of evergreen from the yew remained alongside the back of the bow and I inhaled the welcome aroma. With slow and quiet movements, I retrieved the arrow – the wood smooth against my gloved palms, the soft turkey fletching tickled against my cheek as I aligned the shaft with the arrow rest. Instinctively, my fingers curled around the grip nestled between the limbed valleys of yew, horn, and sinew while the end of the arrow slid into the nocking point. The kisser rested against my full pout as I pulled the string taunt, my elbow jutted outwards. My lungs ballooned with the deep breath I held as I eyed my mark. Below the shade the cat remained on its belly, seemingly unaware of the imminent impact. The air puffed from my chest as I concurrently exhaled and released the string; fletching flew past my line of vision and I watched, eager, for the honed broadhead to reach the mark. The arrow whizzed through the air, violent and yet beautiful as it flew.

Yet the impact was not made. There were no growls or hisses from the lynx to communicate acknowledgement that it felt threatened – in fact, an unnatural silence had descended upon the meadow. Gone were the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees or the sated purrs of the lynx or the chattering of the squirrels as they gathered food or scattered from the forest floor to the safe havens of their trees. Utter silence.

Unnerved, I shifted the bow with the top of the limb at an angle away from my body and the sharpened obsidian that rested on that tip pointed outwards. I gazed across the meadow, beneath the shade of the trees for lynx. Yet, it was not there.

In the end, Nada had caught three fair sized fish from the pond I had scouted in the tree, while I had failed miserably at both my attempts to shoot a lynx and a deer. She clucked her tongue and wagged her finger at my playfully as I scowled at her grinning face. "You were just lucky I was distracted!" I bemoaned.

"Of course Izabel!" she giggled. Only when we were alone, sisters and best friends again, did she call me by my given name. All other times, it was "Your Highness" or "Your Majesty" or "My Queen". I understood why addressed me formally in front of the others; it made our private moments between the two of us much more special.

We traipsed up the path to return home and dropped the fish with a family we met along the way. It was a perfect ending to a perfect afternoon.

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**A/N: Warning, it'll be a long one. ;-)**

So what did you think? The word count on this chapter was 3,457 words! Initially this chapter was over 10k and I thought it best to divide it into two chapters. What stands out to you in this chapter? Do you see any plot development here or did you think it was all filler?

**Northumbria: **The Vikings did indeed invade Northumbria which was considered British land and maintained control of this land for quite some time. Since we know Jane is initially from England, I felt this was a happy medium to have her in my Viking world. ;-) Johana is the Scandinavian form of the English name "Jane". In my story, Jane is a little older - probably mid to late teens, rather than 12 in canon. If you recall, Aro was not going to change Jane and Alec until they were older (due to the immortal children injunction) but due to the violence of the twins' village towards them, his hand was forced. Recall the villagers in the saga had felt the twins were responsible for both good and bad fortunes and in fear, eventually reacted. Had Aro not intervened, the villagers would have burned (and I believe Jane did burn some) the twins at the stake. While I was among those who cheered during that special scene of Breaking Dawn Pt 2 (I won't spoil it for you), I always wondered if Jane had been rescued or survived the village attack without being changed and not being subjected to Cauis, would she have been the monster we all know and love to hate? I like to think Jane could have grown from her trauma and become a strong young woman. But, only time will tell.

**Nine Men's Morris:** Is one of the oldest archeological finds for games - believed to be played even in Ancient Egypt and held no class boundaries (meaning - everyone played it rich or poor). The pieces could be made of anything really - but the prominent pieces were all either black, red, or white in color. I found white and crimson to be fitting within my story.

**The Wild Hunt** is briefly mentioned in this chapter (and will come into play in later chapters) and is a part of a three day festival that urshers in the winter. Included in the festival are costumes consisting of masks (either a sheep or cow) made of felt with fitted hoods. The festival is opened with the cooking of a horse that is boiled (like a stew) and then shared among the guests, of course ale is not only involved but considered a part of the ceremony, dancing (a wild ruckus!) then followed by the Wild Hunt (which is a two day affair). From what I gathered, woman and children did not participate in the Wild Hunt, which is why their outing was only fashioned simiular to the event, rather than attending themselves.

**Izabel's Hunt:** I hope you can see Izabel's character throughout the hunt. She is intuitive and importantly, resourceful. She is very smart - such as climbing a tree for a better vantage point or to outmaneuver a guard. She is a hunter and this is a source of pride for her. Within Viking society, women were strong and fairly independent (they could hunt and fight if needed) which is something I greatly respect. Though, some may see her as unfeeling - she did walk away for an afternoon of play time instead of continuing to work on her the challenges that plague her kingdom. A lynx is one of the larger cats found in Viking terrains and their coats do change from summer to winter which I found interesting. Izabel's bow is a composite bow, meaning it is made from more than one matieral. While Vikings did favor swords as opposed to bows, they did carry and use them. Typically, they used longbows, the largest found measured over 6'3! I changed the bow to fit Izabel's frame and using yew (an evergreen tree), bone, and sinew (animal muscle) for the construction - these materials make the bow lightweight yet effective as opposed to a longbow which was effective but could weigh up to 85 pounds.

Last thing, then I'm done - an article I read about Vikings and bows stated that Vikings twisted the design on long bows. On the top tip of the "limbs" (imagine that backwards "S") was a sharped rock or iron bit to serve as a blade, this way the fighter could use it in direct combat if needed. I thought that was pretty neat and just had to add that in there.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and am very excited to read your reviews. Does it make me look bad if I plead for those reviews? Pretty pretty please! :-) And maybe just maybe, I'll pick a review and add a teaser in my reply.


	7. Chapter 7: The First Encounter

If you've been following this story, please note that I've edited earlier chapters, most changes were minor, however one major change was made. I don't want to ruin it for any new readers, so I won't say what that change was, but it revolves around Jarpr.

(I haven't updated the chapters on yet - but you can view the revisions on The Writers Coffee Shop)

Big thanks to my new pre-reader Dixie who had some great suggestions for this chapter.

Any Twilight characters are the property of SM. :-)

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When we returned, Jane had left the room and was seated comfortably at the end of the cushioned bench along the wall. She smiled at us in welcome, her beautiful pale brown hair radiant in the fading sunlight. Jane was a beautiful young woman under the bruises, dirt, and matted hair. Ira had helped her bath the first time, and Rubi had brushed her hair free of tangles. Dressed in a pale gray dress and her hair pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck, I could tell she was younger than we initially estimated. Her skin looked almost kissed by the sun, a faint warm glow from her life before in the village and her warm brown eyes were very expressive. Since that first day, she had not spoke of her home or her life before. I imagined she had worked with her mother about the house and in a garden since they lived in a farming community. It was during those outdoor activities that the sun danced upon her skin, giving her that soft glow of warmth. Her hair fell to her shoulders, the ends blunt as if cut with dull shears. It was her smile that I most admired – for someone as young as she was to endure not one but two trials so close together, and still able to share a bright and genuine smile was rare.

I ambled over to the extended couch to sit next to her and grinned back, "How was your game?" Her laughter, like chimes blown in the wind, tickled my ears and her arms wrapped about herself to contain the laughter from erupting into full-blown fits of giggles.

"It was great, although you missed Peta's face when she lost _again!_ Where did you and Nada sneak off to?" She readjusted her position, pulled one leg beneath her lap while the other dangled to the floor.

Nada spoke up first. "We hunted. It was wonderful! I caught three fish, but Her Highness was a little less successful." A snicker played on Nada's lips and her face contorted into a barely contained smirk. "We met a family on the way back and gave them the fish. They had small children and their eyes just lit up when they saw them. I thought they were a bit stinky – so I'm pretty happy we didn't have to clean and cook them." Her tongue jutted out against her bottom lip as her eyebrows arched high in exaggeration. She plugged her nose and wafted a hand in front of her face to dispel the imagined stench of the fish.

With a laugh, I waived her off, "They weren't that bad! And your smile was almost as big as the kids. I enjoyed how you told them the story of how you practically dove into the water after them! They were shocked to hear a lady speak in such a manner. Good thing no one recognized you or it'd be a scandal throughout the palace!" Tears leaked from her eyes as she laughed and gulped in mouthfuls of air. "When you're mended, Jane, we will need to bring you hunting with us. It's great fun and a wonderful excuse to leave the palace, even if for a brief time. The woods are calming and there's nothing quite like the thrill of a good hunt. Even _if_, because you're distracted, you don't catch anything." My eyes dared Nada to argue with me – and of course she did.

By time the other Valkyries returned to the chamber, the three of us – Nada, Jane, and I were reduced to wheezing, gasping, crying through our fits of laughter. Nada and I shared a few stories from our childhood, which inevitably resulted in finger pointing tactics, "Nope! That was _you_! I would never do that!" was repeated quite often. The moon rose in the sky and as each yawn circulated the room, we knew it was time to bid one another good night.

One by one they walked to their quarters, each turned and hugged me as they left. I squeezed Jane gently as she passed by me, her radiant smile appeared plastered permanently on her face and it made my heart fly to see her so happy.

With a wave, I turned to my own rooms to settle in for the evening. The doors to my room were open and I crossed through them and to my dresser soundlessly. As I undressed, my thoughts drifted to activities to include Jane. I wondered if she would enjoy the maze or how she would fare with a hunt. My mood sobered as I thought on Jane – both her progress but the incident that brought her to me.

Unfortunately, she had not recalled who specifically attacked her. The attack had been described as a haze of flesh, arms that had reached for her, hands that had slapped her, or feet that had kicked her. Anger threatened to overflow inside me as I considered the brutality of her attack and the helplessness I felt with the lack of resolution.

The anger spread to my fingers as I jerked the gown down over my frame, the fabric gathered at my bust and flowed freely to my ankles. Loud _thumps_ echoed throughout my bedchamber as I stomped to my bed and ripped the covers down. I climbed between the bed sheets and punched my pillow for good measure, then lied down and willed my mind to quiet. Eventually, sleep took me.

It was the screams that woke me from my restless slumber; they rang clear throughout the entire chamber, their pitch high and frenzied. The pitter-patter of feet that shuffled along the floor came next and I bolted upright in my bed. Had those screams come from me? No, I did not have another nightmare. My sleep had been dreamless, no fires, smokes, or unseen faces reached for me. No, the screams came from somewhere else. I ripped blankets away from my skin and threw my legs over the side of my bed. Another scream erupted and a crash. My legs carried me quickly through the bedchamber doors, across the sitting room, and into the Valkyrie quarters.

The room had darkened, the fire reduced to a smolder, with only the faded light of a few embers to light the room. All eight women were awake, breathless from the sounds that met my ears. Yet it was not their quietness that made my hair stand on end.

Jane was in her bed, molded to Peta – her arms wrapped tightly around Peta's back, fingers clawed at her pale nightgown. Great, heaving sobs tore through her small body. Each Valkyrie was frozen in their place, helpless onlookers to the scene that played out before them. Peta, like Nada before her, shushed and rocked Jane, attempted to soothe the girl and whispered assurances in her ear. Sob after sob erupted from the girl's throat, until finally they subsided into whimpers, and then hiccupped cries, and finally faded altogether. Peta cradled the small girl to her body, rubbed soothing patterns across her back, and when the girl slept, tenderly reclined her back in the bed. As if Jane were a child, Peta pulled the covers around her body, tucked them close to her limbs, and then with a sigh, brushed her hair aside and kissed her forehead.

When she straightened, she turned to look back at us and jerked her head to the side. Silent understanding passed through each woman and we quietly exited the room and tip toed to the sitting room. In a low, hushed voice, Ira inquired, "Was it another nightmare?"

Peta nodded, "Yes. I had hoped, that the distractions of today would drive her memories away, at least in her sleep." Her arms wrapped about her waist as she hugged herself in an attempt to hold herself together. "Something must done, I'm not sure how long these memories will haunt her"

"For the rest of her life," I whispered. "For the rest of her life, when she closes her eyes, she may see the whole scene replaying in her mind. If she is very lucky, with time – the memories will lessen and will remain at bay. But something truly terrible has happened, without any repercussions against those who wronged her, and even if we keep her busy everyday for the rest of her life, she may remain haunted by those memories." Seven heads nodded in agreement.

"I wish we knew who they were, we could kill those bastards!" Ava hissed and slammed her bunched fist into her thigh. We each flinched at the impact, the anger radiated from her form. Yet, we each also understood the anger behind her outburst – for it burned brightly as well in our own hearts.

I nodded in agreement, "Something must be done. Yet, nothing can be accomplished this evening. We will discuss this tomorrow, after she has gone to bed." Each agreed and one by one filed quietly back to their room. I rose and returned to my bed, but my body was fitful and I could not sleep.

My thoughts drifted to my wedding night – how I had run from Yåkov's room after he had finished with me; how the Valkyrie – my sisters, had comforted me, washed me, and burned the offending gown that would only fuel my memories. For weeks, I had tiptoed throughout the palace, fearful of crossing his path – fearful inside my own home. Easily, I could relate with Jane's feelings. As days bled into weeks following my wedding, I had curled under the bed sheets and dreamed of Yåkov's death. The anger and fear that had built inside me and created such bitterness that it overflowed into all my interactions. I snapped at my sisters, then I would dismiss guards – I had made poor decisions in the courts without concern for the consequences. It had taken Nada and Ava's persistent love and care to bring me back from that edge, from allowing his actions to not only ruin what should have been a special evening, but also who I was as a person.

I could not allow that to happen to Jane, a wisp of a girl who was maybe 15 years of age. No, to loose oneself to the feelings of rage, hurt, fear, and worthlessness that followed such an act was to only power the offenders who had already taken too much from her. I could not allow her to be swallowed whole and lost to raging storm that threatened her regardless if her eyes were open or closed.

Angry again, I tore the covers from my body and again threw my feet over the side of the bed.

Slowly, I inhaled deeply and relaxed my muscles; limb-by-limb I focused on the tension there and released it from my mind. If I were going to do this, I would need to be quiet – angry and stomping around was the exact antonym of quiet. I padded across the floor to my dresser and retrieved the smooth leather of my Valkyrie attire. My teeth bit down on my bottom lip as I removed the dress and tossed it to the floor. It pooled beside me and for a moment, I considered putting it away, then with a grunt kicked it across the room. Somewhat satisfied, I roughly pulled the black leather leggings over my body, then my feet slid effortlessly into the soft, flat boots that kissed the bottom of my kneecaps. The black leather tunic slid effortlessly down my torso, the cool skin that clung to my own sent a thrill up my spine. The snug leather defined each curve and valley with etchings of Odin's protection for his warriors carved into the tunic; the scaled leather bracers protected my forearms and the gloves blended my fingers with the darkness. A thrill of anger or adrenaline, I'm not sure. My hair was already braided before bed this evening and I secured it into a braided knot at the base of my neck. My hands shook as I drew my facemask over my head – it concealed my face and hair, left only my eyes visible, the cloak and hood secured across my neck by the wings of a raven.

I would melt into the dark night.

Anonymous.

I smiled behind the mask and attached two small knives to my side, one at my hip and one tucked into my boot.

My heart pounded as I crept through the chambers. The main room remained dark, the shadows of the sitting area creepy in the abandoned room. A shiver shot down my spine and I pressed myself forward to the door. Ever so slowly, I cracked the door until I could squeeze past the opening. With a soft click, I pulled the door closed again and stole through the hall, with only one destination in mind.

The guard's quarters.

Each day Leif had escorted me to the maze and during those walks through the halls, he updated me in regards to the state of the kingdom. The seemingly unending influx of new guards had slowed and finally halted. Yet, the people's conditions had neither improved or further deteriorated. It was curious, as if time were almost at a standstill. Briefly, I considered sending Leif out further into the kingdom to inspect the conditions of the people, but had almost immediately dismissed the thought. I wanted Leif to remain in the palace until Jane's attack had been resolved, one-way or the other.

The hour was late and very few people remained about in the halls. Various servants and guards passed as their conducted their rounds, yet under the cover of darkness, I remained unseen.

The guard quarters were on the far side of the palace, just East of the general servant's quarters. A large courtyard for training settled within close proximity of their beds. Should the need arise, the guards could leave their beds and reach the courtyard or the armory that lay just beyond. For a moment, I considered barring the doors to the armory, but dismissed the foolish thought. I was not here for the entire guard, many of whom I had known my whole life, but rather for a select few.

The guard's quarters was sectioned by long rooms connected through a common room that contained several wooden benches, ale, and a spit for cooking. The center room was rather large, with a high ceiling and sturdy beams throughout the structure. Scattered throughout the room were benches – some cushioned, some not, sturdy cabinets and dressers housed mead, herbs, medicine and bandages. Hung upon the wall opposite to me was an iron structure where swords, axes, and mace rested. Below them, thick shields reclined against the wall, each one emblazoned with the seal of Dagez.

I crept into the common area and slid behind a beam as I examined the three halls that lead to the sleeping quarters. Similar to the Valkyrie, all the beds lined the walls of the long rooms. It reasoned that since all the men shared a long room, that Jane's attackers were limited to only room. Of course, others may have heard the noise from the struggle then upon inspection of the situation decided to participate. Bile rose from my stomach and burned the back of my throat as I fought to swallow it down. A red haze blurred my vision and I ground my teeth as I imagined the gruesome scene as it played out. My body struggled with rage that threatened to bubble from inside and overflow in war cry.

_Calm down, you cannot accomplish anything in a blind rage._

_Imagine what you can accomplish with a clear head._

A smile tugged the corners of my lips as other images danced across my mind, the gruesome scene _I_ would leave in my wake.

My mind struggled to recall the details Leif had shared with me – had everything occurred in his room or did he become aware of what was happening in another room? I could not recall and with a deep breath I moved to the hall at my left. The connecting hall between the long rooms and the common area was short, and I heard men talking as I crept along the wall. My ears strained to hear the specifics of their discussion.

They spoke of mead and food, local barkeeps that had caught their eye, and a few spoke of the families they had left behind. None of the conversation touched on Jane or her sudden disappearance from the quarters. Silently, I moved back to the common room and to the middle hall. In this hall, the men were snoring – some louder than others. With a grunt, I returned to the common area and descended the final hall.

Some men were asleep; their even breaths were heavy and rhythmic. But there was a group of men, huddled at the opposite end of the long house that spoke in hushed whispers.

They spoke of someone missing – I could only assume they meant Jane, that had been taken the previous week. Oddly, they wondered if the same would happen to them. Curious, I leaned closer to the frame to hear their whispered words. The phrase _"that girl"_ caught my interest as their voices lowered even more.

"Dammit!" I cursed and knew that if I crept forward any further, they would surely find me.

These seemed like at least a few of the men who had attacked Jane, should I risk an attack without full confidence?

_Yes_.

_No. You are not sure they are the ones. What if you harm or kill innocent men?_

_They harmed an innocent girl. Even if they are not directly responsible, they did not do anything to stop it._

_How do you know that? You don't! You cannot attack them without every confidence that they did this terrible act._

Roughly I was pulled from inner conflict as one hand grasped my shoulder while the other covered my mouth and effortlessly towed me backwards. The grip was solid and my struggles were fruitless as the stranger pulled me through the hall and to a side exit. My feet kicked aimlessly and the grip continued to pull me back into shadows of the courtyard located adjacent to the long houses. It was only after we were away from the houses, past the courtyard, and I imagined outside of hearing range should I scream, did the grip release its hold.

I spun around to face my attacker and was met with frightening dark orbs – darker than a starless night. "Jarpr?" I questioned. The eyes hardened, his face angry.

"What were you doing there?" his voice was dark, angry – and my body warned me to tread carefully. His body was tense, his stance rigid, and for the first time – I noticed his arms at his sides with smalls fists that were tightly bunched. Ever so slowly, I shifted the weight from one foot to another and moved just a fraction away from him, the movement slight enough I doubted he had noticed.

"That is none of your concern." I spat, my anger surprising even me. "How dare you put your hands on me in that fashion! How dare you drag me," he did not allow me to complete my tirade as his arms gripped mine roughly and shook me roughly.

"Stop behaving like a spoiled child! You will not go there again, do you understand?" His eyes burned into mine, fury radiated from him – surrounded me and bore down on my senses. Painful fingers released their grip and I dropped to the ground among the damp grass and earth. Shock washed through me at his actions, and then anger. While I wrestled with a maelstrom of emotions, he crouched next to me and hissed in my ear, "I will return you to your chambers, _Highness_, and you will remain there or with your maidens. Do not return to this part of the castle, I warn you – stay away."

"_Fuck you Jarpr!_" I screamed in my anger, my hand flew from my side in a swift motion and met with his cold, hold skin. Though my hand screamed in objection – heat radiated from my palm, I hid the pain. The impact turned his head to the side, away from my sight as my chest heaved from my rage. A gasp escaped my lips as he turned to face me again – his dark orbs enraged and wild, the fury barely contained behind his previously dispassionate mask.

Cold fingers gripped the offending wrist and with a hard yank pinned it to the soft earth below me. I whimpered as the pain shot from my shoulder at the awkward angle. "_Highness_," he hissed, "I would not do that again if I were you. We will return to your rooms now." His tone implied the finality of the statement and numbly I nodded my head.

Still, his grip held me bound to the cold forest floor and I dared not stir within his hold. Gone was the fiery anger that had been my companion only moments ago. Blood pumped sluggishly through my veins, my head felt light, and my vision spun around me. My lungs screamed for air and I realized that I was very afraid - more afraid than I had been in months. Something about Jarpr had terrified me, but I could not identify what it was specifically. My mind screamed at me to run, escape – flee from the glare that made my blood run cold. Somewhere else, although I could not determine what, screamed at my to fight back.

I thought of that other time I had been afraid – afraid of what Yåkov's bedchamber would hold in my future, what he would do if I had refused him. I remembered the fear that had coursed through my veins as he had roughly taken me, as I cried below him – and how utterly helpless I had felt. I remembered being swallowed, devoured by my fear and as the weeks followed, I remembered the vow I had made to myself – always fight back. Always resist.

Foolishly, I listened to the later.

And though I was terrified, though my mind screamed for me to remain still and allow his anger to pass, though somehow I knew I could not best him, I resisted.

My other hand free, I reached for the knife at my side, my fingers tugged at the strap that secured it to my hip and released the blade. The hilt was pressed to the palm of my hand and with a surge of adrenaline, I lunged forward – my other arm screamed in protest – and stabbed at Jarpr's arm. Too fast for my eyes to follow, Jarpr's free hand snatched the knife from my hand, his fingers wrapped around the wrist, and squeezed painfully. A growl rumbled in his chest and he peered down at me through feral eyes.

His body was above mine, my back sunk into the cold, damp dirt and pebbles, my arms splayed upwards beyond my head – captured with an iron grip. His breath washed over me with his faces only inches from my throat, chest heaved with each ragged breath he took. The moon illuminated his form – a dark shadow bathed in a pale glow, eyes darker than the night sky, and perfect alabaster skin that hummed and called to me. Yet now, as I watched him struggle for self control, I could not help but think of his other worldly beauty – even when he reminded me more of a demon than a man.

Untold moments passed – the night air-cooled, the moon shifted slightly in the sky, and the castle became darker as more fires and lanterns were extinguished. In the distance, I could hear the faint trickle of a nearby stream, movements in the forest – probably deer or some other animal as the meandered past. Yet, we remained here.

Frozen.

I with my fear.

He with the struggle to regain his self-control.

Abruptly, he removed his grip from me and righted his stance. Hesitantly, as though he doubted I would accept, he extended a hand to help me rise from my position. My muscles ached from the awkward position he had captured me in, and my legs felt thick, heavy, and unstable. I wobbled and swayed on my feet and he flitted to my side to catch me. I jerked away, my body and mind at war – his very presence unexplainably comforted and calmed me and yet with what had just occurred, I did not want him anywhere near me, let along touching me. I yanked my arm from his grip and began the short trek back to the palace. He followed silently behind.

"They would have killed you," he whispered. "They did not know who you were, and would have struck you dead in a moment."

This was why he hauled me away and scared me beyond measure? He thought he had saved me from something?

"You underestimate me servant, I am not without skills of my own," I explained, and then turned sharply on my heel to face him. "You've bested me twice – I'm not sure how, but I am able to defend myself."

"Forgive me, Highness, but it does not appear that way." His odd eyes bore into mine, daring me to disagree with him. As I stared angrily back, it occurred to me that I was wearing my Valkyrie garb – he should not have known who I was either.

"How did you know?" I asked, utterly confused as to how he could have possibly known it was me lurking about the halls.

"Pardon?" he questioned, his eyes narrowed into slits, and his brow bunched in confusion.

"How did you know it was me? You said the guards would not have known it was I and would have killed me. How did _you_ know it was me?"

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**A/N: I hope this chapter added more insight into Izabel's character and raised some brows about Jarpr. How do you feel about these characters? What are your current theories? And, while I only briefly mentioned it - what do you think the guards were discussing? How do you think Jarpr knew it was her? I love hearing - or reading rather - your feedback, theories, and ideas. All reviewers get a cookie from me! :-)  
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	8. Chapter 8: Court

Chapter Notes: So big apology for the belated update. To sum it all up in one sentence: got really sick with bronchitis, then came Christmas, then the post-Christmas cruise, then started a new job, and started two new classes. Before I knew it, it was February and my story was demanding that I spend some quality time writing. :P I'm working on getting to the middle of this story, as the second half is already written. Currently in my ever growing Word document, I am sitting at 147,000 words and 155 pages. I would say this will be at least 30 chapters - probably more. Please be patient as I attempt to get back on a posting schedule.  
All Twilight characters are the property of SM. But the storyline is all mine. ;)

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Chapter 8: Court

Silence hung heavily in the air as I stared back at him, waiting his answer. He stood completely still; his dark eyes bore into me. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. "I followed you," came the abrupt reply. He took a step towards me, arm outstretched as if to guide me forward, to continue the walk towards my chambers. As he neared me, I felt my body hum in reaction, the blood rushed through my body and roared in my ears. The sound was deafening and I fought against the confusing reactions to clear my mind.

I absorbed the answer, carefully turned it over in my mind before I spoke, "How did you know it was me that you were following?"

Had I wanted to, I could have reached out and touched him, his body so close to my own, the humming awakening every sense in me – it un-nerved and disoriented me, yet I would not be detoured. I decided to stand my ground and await his explanation.

With a frustrated sigh, Jarpr took a step away from me, and the humming eased slightly. His hand jerked through his hair, the hood he wore falling softly to his shoulders. In the dark, I squinted to make out the color of his always hidden strands, but could only make out the outline and shape. It was clearly messy, but from our struggles, his hand that jerked through it, or if it was always that way – was unclear. It suited him, and I found my fingers twitched in anticipation of touching his hair.

The abrupt sound of his voice brought me back to the present, "Sometimes at night, I wait outside the chamber – in case you are in need of something. I had heard noise from your room, and then shortly after, you exited the chamber. I assumed it was you, and I was right." Boldly, he stepped forward; his body now inches from my own. I swallowed thickly and looked up to his bared face, and when he spoke next, his cool breath washed over me, "Highness, you must not return to the guards' chambers, it is very dangerous." I inhaled his breath greedily – it filled my head and made me slightly dizzy. His voice was hypnotizing and I could not find reason to resist, argue, or pry further into his explanation. Within my head, a voice sounded with questions that I knew deserved answers, yet before I could understand the any of them, they were beyond my grasp – dancing like a mist outside my concentration. They seemed silly and unfounded as they floated further and further away, and while I knew somewhere inside there was more to the story he fed me, I could not care to inquire further. Instead, I found myself nodding in agreement without a thought, and then following him back to my rooms. Somewhere inside me, I knew that I would willing follow him anywhere should he ask, yet that thought too danced away before it could give way to more unsettled thoughts.

The afternoon light filled the floors of my room, and I groggily wiped the sleep from my eyes. The events of the previous night were muddied in my mind, and I wondered if they were a dream. My fingers felt along my hair effortlessly – no snarls, grass, or leaves from rolling around on the ground. The long tresses were still braided, but not knotted as I recalled from my dream. Was it a dream? Did I really fight with Jarpr last night? Did I really _loose_ to a eunuch? I swung my legs over the side of the bed and hurried to my dresser, I pulled the heavy doors open and removed the false bottom to find my Valkyrie uniform folded neatly in it's place. I replaced the board and chewed thoughtfully on my lip.

Puzzled, I pulled a gown from the dresser and flung it towards the bed, my fingers yanked the fabric of my dressing gown upwards.

"Highness," the smooth voice to my side interrupted my thoughts. With a yelp, my fingers released the edges of my gown. I turned to my side and my hands flew to cover my mouth.

Jarpr stood – hood in place, eyes practically glowing from beneath its shadows – starring at me. "Are you alright, Highness?" Though his voice sounded concerned, I noticed one corner of his mouth twitched, as if he snickered or laughed at me.

"You startled me Jarpr. How long have you been here?" My eyes darted nervously back to my open dresser, relieved that I had replaced the board so he could not see the uniform. However, if it had not been a dream, surely he already knew? If he had observed me long, he would have seen me go directly to the hidden compartment, would know how to access the garments.

"Not long, Highness. The King has summoned you, and I have been sent to bring you to him," he explained. Relief flooded my limbs, as he gave no indication that he had seen my uniform or alluded to the events of the previous night. He looked without a scratch on him or his typical uniform, surely had our scuffle been real one of us would carry the evidence from the previous evening?

I nodded and turned from him, "Wait outside the chambers while I dress," I instructed. Stiffly, he turned on his heel and left the room, the door thudded close behind him.

Quickly, I removed the sleeping gown and then moved towards the bed where I had carelessly tossed my dress. The dress was ankle length, with a bright red wool fabric that hugged the lines of my chest and then pooled out from my beneath my bosom. The sleeves reached my elbows and flared slightly with a fur lining along the edges. Upon the top left shoulder, a tiny black raven had been stitched above my heart encircled in the letter "O". I pulled the bright red fabric down over my body and smoothed my braid. As I reached for my comb to smooth stray strands away, I noticed light marks along the inside of my arms at the bend of my elbows. Had it been a dream? Or had it been real? My brow furrowed as I searched my memories for any incident that could explain the pale bruising, yet could not recall any.

Quietly, I exited the chambers and met Jarpr in the hall. "Let us go," I commanded and he nodded.

We walked in silence through the halls towards the throne room. I wanted so badly to inquire about the previous night, yet was unsure how to begin with my questions. If it had been a dream, I would be alerting this foreigner to my training, to the plot the Valkyrie and I had discussed. If it had not been a dream, the concerns were endless. Why would a servant be so well trained? Why would Jarpr be waiting outside my chamber at night? How had he distracted and disoriented me so thoroughly?

Too soon we reached the hall outlaying the throne room; it was filled with people from the village, who murmured and talked amongst themselves. I wondered if the daily court had been conducted or if these people still waited their opportunities to plead their cases before the King. Jarpr led me through the throng and into the archway to the throne room.

Yåkov sat on my father's throne – he looked bored and disinterested in the people around him. His gaze seemed faraway, almost lost in thought. He bowed deeply at the waist, his eyes averted to the floor, "Your Majesty, I have brought the Queen as you commanded." Jarpr straightened again, and in two large strides, moved away from me.

Yåkov's sight settled on me, and my skin chilled as his eyes roamed over my body. Somewhere in the room, another low hiss resonated, but from where I was not sure. "Ah, my wife, please come sit next to me," his hand motioned towards my throne seated next to his own. I obeyed, my legs stiff and uncertain as I ascended the steps and sat. "Wife, I have held court to await your arrival. I wish you to sit in on the proceedings with me. I will need your judgment to settle these trivial matters."

My mind turned over his words – his first invitation for me to return to court, and to assist with the judgment of my people. Already weary of him as a ruler, Leif's story echoed in my mind and I stilled myself from recoiling from Yåkov. How best to steer this leadership in the right direction?

Father had always taught me that violence and resistance should be the last measures taken for any cause. In this case – Yåkov's poor leadership that had cost many their homes already, what was the best course of action? I needed Yåkov on my side – with this alliance, I could slowly turn the tide and right the wrongs already taking hold in my kingdom. The best course here would be to observe, and look for moments to win his trust – to earn his alliance and to slowly move towards lower taxes and relief for the burdened. My mind made up, I nodded and forced a smile onto my lips. "Of course, my King. I am here to serve you and my people." The wicked gleam in his eye made my body shudder and I fought to regain my composure as his eyes roamed my body again.

"Yes, I shall remember that wife."

Somewhere within the room, a low hiss tickled my ears, yet when my eyes searched among the guards and servants present, none stood out.

Yåkov extended his arm and signaled the guards to allow the throng outside entry to the throne room. They walked in quietly, their feet shuffled along the hard stones of the floor. One guard had collected the list of grievances to be heard at court and went through the list one by one. Each villager involved in the complaint would move to the center of the room and address Yåkov, who would listen and announce a decision. Once the decision had been made, the complaint was no more. Each villager came and went, some appeased with the decisions made, some visibly angry – yet wisely held their tongues. As these people departed court, their postures stiff and defeated, my heart reached out to them. How I wished to be of my service, to be able to contest the decisions made, and to restore justice immediately to my people, yet I knew I required patience. Patience and time would my greatest allies and enemies during this pursuit to change the rule from within.

The list was near completion when one villager who was unsatisfied with the judgment spoke out.

His lands had been plundered by the Jarl of his region due to the neighboring villagers who worked his lands being unable to pay their taxes. This landowner was greatly upset by the guards and Jarl who had taken the food from his storage and silver from his chests in retribution for those who worked the landowner's lands being unable to pay taxes. Yåkov had decided the Jarl was just, and that the landowner should have taken more care and control to ensure his workers were able to pay their taxes. "Why do you need to raise the taxes anyways? These workers are unable to pay the taxes you demand, yet you allow the Jarls to continue to raise taxes further and steal from those they are supposed to care for." His voice was bitter and angry, and his frustrated gaze stared defiantly at Yåkov.

Yet, the King seemed unbothered by this outburst, for which I was fleetingly thankful. "Yes, you present a strong case landowner. I can see that you disagree with my decision, let us consult with Her Majesty and hear her decision on this matter. My Queen?" Yåkov turned his gaze towards me and I knew this was the moment I could build his trust or loose any I had gained since our wedding.

The Jarl was clearly in the wrong; as was my husband – yet would this one disagreement cost me any alliance I wanted with him? Was this matter worth standing against him or was it minor enough to do what was needed – even if wrong – to win his trust?

_Time and patience,_ I reminded myself. I needed time and patience.

"The King has spoken fairly, and has not issued any decrees of punishment to you landowner. Be thankful for his mercy and return to your lands. Plan ahead better for the rising taxes and be sure to be grateful for the mercy of your Jarl, who could have done much worse than collected what was rightfully his." My voice was cold and I narrowed my eyes at the landowner. Inside I pleaded with him to understand, to forgive me – and thanked him for his sacrifice in my secret battle to win over the King. I knew he had no way of knowing my plan, yet I still pleaded with him to understand.

"This is outrageous! The King never would have allowed for such behavior! You are both corrupt and steal from the very people you have taken an oath to protect!" His body moved forward in angry strides, his boots striking the ground in loud succession as he charged towards the thrones. Yåkov smiled and nodded to the guard at his side who stepped forward and impaled the landowner on his sword. The blade slide effortlessly into the man's ribcage, a sickening crunch was heard as the metal tore through bone and exited through his back. Eyes wide, mouth gaping the landowner sucked in gasping breaths – a line of red appeared at his lips as he coughed and sputtered blood. Quickly, the guard lifted his boot from the ground, and with a grunt the heel of his shoe pushed violently against the body of the landowner and slide him from the now bloodied blade.

"Anyone else challenge the decisions or the judges of this court?" Yåkov asked sweetly as the landowner's body slumped to the ground. His throat gurgled as his struggled to breathe – his lungs drowned in his own blood as he coughed and sputtered red flecks. I wanted to give him a quick end, yet watched frozen to my seat as his life slowly drained from his body, and with a last shuddering breath, he died.

My eyes were glued to the man's lifeless form as my thoughts warred with one another – had I made the correct choice? I had angered and disappointed this landowner, this man whose name I did not know, and it had cost him his life. Guilt washed over me and the voices in the room faded in the background.

It was the heavy pressure from Yåkov's hand upon my shoulder that returned me from my thoughts, "Wife, are you well?" he inquired. My eyes reluctantly moved from the man's corpse to my husband's unreadable face. Mutely, I nodded and fought to regain my composure.

"Good. Will you join me for dinner this eve?" he requested. A shudder passed through me, one that he obviously mistook for something else. His eyes darkened and again roamed my body as he chuckled, "If you are that eager, we could retire to my chambers now." Instantly I knew what was in his thoughts and I fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm me.

My lips were forced into a smile, although I worried it appeared more like a grimace, "Yåkov, I would love to join you for dinner. Regretfully, I am unable to retire at this moment."

He continued to smile and nodded, "Of course. I will see you this evening then," his hand reached down towards my wrist and pulled my hand to his lips. With a smile, he kissed the back of my hand – his eyes never leaving my face. I plastered what I hoped was a smile onto my face and awaited the release from the room. Yåkov rose from his throne, inclined his head towards me, and without another word departed the room.

My eyes returned to the corpse mere feet from me and noticed that servants were already clearing the body and blood from the room. I rose and descended the stairs, careful to walk away from the corpse. With resignation I squared my shoulders and began to stride purposely from the room.

As I exited the hall, I felt rather than heard Jarpr's presence at my side. His anger rolled from his body, yet he said nothing. We rounded the corner from the hall and into the wing towards my chambers in silence. As we neared the archway towards the maze, I noticed in my peripheral vision Jarpr incline his head to the side. As if having made a decision, his arms encircled my waist and fluidly he pulled me through the archway and into the hidden depths of the maze. Quickly we strolled past the weapons, through the entry, and into the shrubs. He had led us to a dead end – nowhere to go – my back towards the shrubs and trees blocked any progression, and a clearly enraged Jarpr blocked my exit.

"What was that?!" he demanded. "How could you support that decision? How could you allow that man to die?" He appeared as an avenging angel, and I could not quiet the whimper that escaped my lips or to stay my body from backing away from him. The stiff leaves and branches blocked my escape and pressed into the skin at my shoulder blades.

"I thought you cared for your people, I thought you were better than this." His angry eyes bore into me as he continued his rant. "Your father would not have let this stand."

At the mention of my father, my blood boiled. How dare he mention my father? How dare he, a servant – talk to me like this? "You don't know anything Jarpr! You don't know the weight that is upon my shoulders – or the reasoning behind my actions! You are a servant! How easy it is for you to stand idly by on the sidelines and judge me, yet not understand why or how I make my decisions."

His chest rumbled with an inhuman growl as he spat, "I know more than you understand! I understand sacrifice, whereas you have lived your entire life in this castle, pampered and never knowing what it is like to be without. I know what it is to be a true servant, instead of a spoiled brat who lives in comfort bemoaning the pressure of her supposed servitude to her people. Servitude and sacrifice – Highness are not merely bringing food to those who hunger or taking in a beaten child, but doing what is needed, what is right for your people even when it discomforts you. _My_ King would have acted fairly; he would have heard the people with an open mind and would have punished the Jarl who took such privileges from those entrusted in his care. _My _King would have done something about the ruin that is slowly eating away your lands, yet you do nothing. Do not speak to me about a lack of understanding when I have seen the rulers of my own lands truly understand what it is to serve and sacrifice for their people."

For a fleeting moment, I wondered what he had faced in his life – what trials he had endured, what had seen as a child and adult, and what type of kingdom he must come from to speak so passionately of the service to others. Had his family been victims to an unfair Jarl or ruler? Had they too lost their lands? Then it dawned on me, how he had spat at me the actions of _his_ King, as if he held no loyalty to the King he now served.

_Or continues to serve._

Oh gods.

Is Jarpr still serving his King - the King of Tyr?

If so, why would he be a servant within my kingdom?

Or rather, why would he _feign _loyalty as a servant to my kingdom?

"_Your_ King, Jarpr? _Your_ King is the one who made that decision, and _your_ Queen is the one who upheld it. Or do you forget that you are no longer a servant of the land of Tyr? That your previous king gave you away, as if you were a possession instead of a person! That your previous ruler saw no more value in you than what he could trade you for!" My back straightened and I glared coldly at him – daring him to challenge me, to rebuke me and to reveal himself.

"I serve, whom I serve. That is all you need to know, _my_ Queen," he seethed.

Involuntarily, I gasped as the cold truth – the truth of his treachery, the truth of his deceit. "You will find nothing worth report in my kingdom spy. I am confident that my rule is without rebuke."

He took one step back and tilted his head to the side, curiosity dawning upon his face. "_If_ that were true, I doubt you would allow anyone to report back if you knew them to be disloyal to the kingdom."

"If which part were true?" I questioned.

"Any of it, Highness."

"I would not stop you." I jutted my chin out, pushed my shoulders back, and walked as bravely as possible past his stiff figure – the curiosity and rage still battled upon his face as he attempted to understand my words. I was confident that I could change the tide, to right the wrongs within my kingdom – I would give Tyr no reason to look beyond their borders at our lands, people, or rulers.

I was in a word, naïve.

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A/N: I want you to get a good look inside each of these characters, and understand their mindsets. Yes, Izabel is a warrior of sorts - she can hunt and defend herself to a degree, but she is also someone who uses strategy. Do you think her current strategy will gain any ground or do you think she's setting herself up for trouble?

Jarpr on the other hand is attempting to figure Izabel out and it's wildly confusing for him. On the one hand, her actions speak of dedication to her subjects, yet her actions also point to someone spoiled who runs away when she feels overwhelmed (such as going into the woods with her friends) or blindly making rash decisions (such as confronting and attempting to kill guards). However, her actions at court have obviously angered him - and we may be seeing more of the angry, cold Jarpr in the coming chapters.

In culture of these time periods (not being limited to just Vikings), it was not uncommon for the Jarl or Earl (in English cultures) to take what they felt was owed to them. It is hoped that on some level, the rulers such as kings and queens did control them to some extent, but with Earls having the right to bed a bride before her husband on her wedding night, we know this wasn't always the case. In Viking cultures, the Queens could and often did sit in on public courts as women were independent leaders within their culture.  
I would love to hear your feedback.

I've been considering a Jarpr POV chapter, but am really on the fence about it. Is that something you'd be interested to read? If so, any particular chapters or events you'd like to see covered?


	9. Chapter 9: Stories

A/N: I'm working very hard to get back on a weekly posting schedule, so please bear with me while I work towards that. :) I want to share with you all that I had a really difficult time writing this chapter and I'm very eager to know what you think.

As always, if you find any Twilight characters in here, they belong to SM, but the plot is all mine and I'm hoping it's keeping you on your toes. :)

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I walked away from the maze, through the archway, down the hall, and into my chamber before I allowed my nerves to best me. My hands shook uncontrollably as I breathed through the anxiety. _Inhale and exhale. You are in control._ As I regulated my breathing, my posture straightened to stand tall. With steady steps, I continued inside the chamber towards the sitting area.

My Valkyrie sisters had departed already from the chambers, to feed the people due to the lateness of my wakening or other pressing errands, I knew not which. The silence hung in the air thickly as I pondered the events of court and my confrontation with Jarpr. Why did his disapproval sting? Why did it matter what my servant thought of my actions or decisions? My brow furrowed as I considered his probable disloyalty towards the kingdom – or rather continued loyalty to the kingdom of Tyr. The raging emotions I felt towards Jarpr, his actions, and his disloyalty churned within me.

_You also agreed to dine with Yåkov this eve, _my thoughts reminded me. I shuddered at the prospect of being alone with him again, of sitting within arms' reach without the protection of an audience to stay his impulses. One way or another I would find an excuse to leave the dinner early and therefor be unavailable for any other_ activities_ he may have in mind. Another shudder passed through me as I thought of the possibilities he may in mind to follow our meal.

So lost in these thoughts that once again I failed to notice _his_ arrival to my chambers or the time that had lapsed. Upon sensing a presence in the room, I raised my eyes from the walls before me to my side where an unmoving Jarpr awaited my acknowledgement.

Was I still angry at his outburst, with his roughness towards me? I was unsure, yet I inclined my head towards him in acknowledgement. He bowed at the waist in reply; however his eyes never left my face. I observed they were a honey color again; his face blank – no shadows of anger marred his beautiful complexion.

"Highness, I must beg your forgiveness for my impulsive behavior," the velvet of his voice caressed each word, each syllable as he spoke. "It was inappropriate for me to reveal my anger, even more so to take that anger out upon you, my Queen."

"Am I your Queen, Jarpr?" the reply fell from my lips before I could silence it, my acknowledgement of his loyalty to another kingdom now hung between us.

"Of course," he acknowledged. "As I said before, I serve whom I serve. With that in mind, I believe it would be foolish to dine with the King this eve." My head turned sharply away from him as I considered his words. Setting aside the vague answer of his loyalties, I wondered what wisdom his advice held. Was it foolishness to dine, potentially alone, with my husband? Would I face another night in his bed? A chill passed through and my limbs shook with the images of that other night. No, I would not allow the events to lead to his chambers; I would dine with him and excuse myself early within the evening.

Jarpr was closer now, kneeled at my side, his face bathed in concern. "Highness, are you alright?"

I shook my head from side to side – both in reply to his question and to the suspected desires of my husband. I was not alright, I too, worried for my safety with Jåkov, worried that my defenses were not enough, worried about the duty that demanded my obedience. Equally unnerving, my concern for a disloyal servant should he be discovered and my quick ability to forgive his earlier inexcusable actions.

"I need to go, the sun is already setting and dinner will be served soon." The sun sat low on the horizon, the sky a beautiful shade of orange. The clouds stretched across the broad sky, the profile of the mountains illuminated in the fading sky. Stiffly, I rose from the chair, my muscles protested from being seated for so long, and I walked past Jarpr. "I will return to my chamber after dinner. You are dismissed Jarpr." I continued my stride through the sitting room and through the chamber door.

Leif was positioned at the end of the hall, and I walked steadily towards him. Upon noticing my approach, he bowed at the waist, head and eyes downcast as he greeted me, "Good evening Your Majesty."

"Good evening Leif. Would you walk with me to the dining hall?" I wanted company to keep my mind from thinking on the dinner at hand with my husband, and to deter Jarpr from following me in an attempt to sway me from the meeting.

"Of course Your Majesty." He turned on his heel and matched me stride for stride, although with his height I am certain he shortened his own strides to equal mine. "Would you like to hear the information I have gathered?"

I nodded – yes; this would surely serve as a good distraction and arm me with information that I would, hopefully, discuss with Jåkov.

"The flow of guards has lessened, although some still come to palace for a place in the guard. Initially, I was concerned there would be no more room as the long houses had reached their capacity, yet some men have abandoned their posts. One can only assume they have returned home. Of those who do continue to arrive, their stories are similar to my own, their families or kin were unable to pay the taxes and had to send someone to repay the debt. Even so, many have lost their homes and lands and have sought refuge with other families." He paused, and I turned my face to observe his profile. Brow furrowed he seemed to consider his next words carefully.

"Leif, what is it that you are not telling me? Something clearly troubles you." I needed him to know he could share anything with me without recourse from myself, the information he provided was vitally important if I hoped to change the tide.

"There are whispers, rumors, Your Highness, that some have crossed the mountains into the land of Tyr. No word on if they are seeking refuge or of any returns. Please understand, these are only rumors, no one I know has crossed the border."

I considered this new information – would my people leave the kingdom? Had the state of affairs degraded enough to drive them from the homelands? Did Yåkov know this, or King Vanir? Leif's voice broke through my musings, "Highness, what do you plan to do?"

I sighed, "I'm not sure yet, Leif. At this point, it is unclear the most efficient approach to achieve the best results for the most people. I want you to know I appreciate the information you have brought me and that I am working towards a solution."

Leif nodded, "I trust you will do what is best for the people; I will continue to bring you more information as it reaches me. And Highness?"

We paused and faced one another, "Yes?"

"Thank you for listening."

"Of course," I replied. It did not escape me that we had now reached the dining hall and my nerves spiked inside. "Leif, would you mind waiting for me?"

If he was confused by my request, he hid it well. With a quick nod of his head, he bowed again and turned to wait by the archway of the hall. Inhaling deeply, I walked forward and composed my face of a blank mask.

The hall itself was one that was used for banquets and ceremonies with a long table in the center, towards the front of the room were a few stone steps leading to a smaller long table where royalty or visiting ambassadors would sit. Upon each wall hung thick fabric stitched with the emblem of the Dagez, these fabrics arched and hung around swords and shields also engraved with the kingdom's emblem. Chairs lined the walls with small, round tables seated between them; during ceremonies these tables would hold barrels of mead, bread, and other assorted foods. The corners were always left bare, to give room for people to move about or for bards to play their instruments and sing. Many a happy memory was made here with my father and the servants who were my friends. I smiled as I recalled Nada's first drink of mead; she had coughed and sputtered as the liquid had burned her throat. We had laughed together as she wiped the liquid from her dress and face; then she poured herself another glass and managed to drink it without trouble.

I had reached the stone steps, and lifted my eyes to see my husband seated at the head of the table. To his left, an empty chair and a wine glass had already been filled. Swallowing thickly, I ascended the stairs and moved quietly to the chair.

"My wife," he greeted me and inclined his head towards me as I sat.

"Husband," I acknowledged. He waived towards a servant, who brought a tray of food for each of us. Upon my plate were roasted boar, with cheese, and some tomatoes. Though I was hungry, my stomach rolled at the food – anxious to complete this meal and be out of sight and grasp of Yåkov.

My fingers wrapped around a fork and speared a piece the meat, the mundane actions of feeding myself a distraction of his nearness. From the corner of my eye, I observed that he paused – as if he had wanted to say something before he lifted his bit of cheese to his own mouth. I continued to chew my own meat, and hoped that if I ate my meal quickly, perhaps I could depart early and remain unscathed.

"What did you think of court today?" his question, while expected, still startled me and I choked on my meat. My throat burned from the coughing and I reached for my wine glass to soothe my throat before I answered.

"Which part of court? Do you inquire my thoughts about any of the proceedings?" I knew to be careful, artful in my answers; I could not give away my thoughts or feelings on how matters were handled. Also, I could not allow my answers to betray how significant the landowner's death had been for me, if I replied to only that one event, the weight of the matter would be clear for Yåkov.

He considered my question while he chewed his food, then after a swig of wine replied, "Most specifically, the landowner and his death. How do you feel about that incident?" his tone was even and gave no hint to his own feelings.

"I feel that you acted fairly, and that it was unfortunate that the man made a rash decision that cost him his life." My eyes were lowered as I shared this lie with him, hopeful that he would not be able to discern the truth.

I felt, rather than observed, him nod in his own reply, and then with a heavy sigh continued, "I agree, however it really bothers me that his life was forfeited. I thought," he paused and considered his words, "I thought that it would not bother me. And for a moment, I felt this surge of adrenaline when he began to move towards us. Do you understand wife?"

Confusion washed through me as his words sank in. In the throne room, I had taken his reactions as excitement and even delight. It had never occurred to me that perhaps he had felt any remorse for the outcome. Carefully I inquired further, "Do you think anything could have been differently to alter the outcome?"

As he pondered his reply to me, I forced myself to really look at the man seated at my side. For months I had held him in contempt, had hated him for what had transpired between us that night. Yet, I had never stopped to consider the overwhelming changes he too was experiencing. I could not fathom how very different his life must be now that he was married and the king; how very different the expectations of him now versus only a few months prior. Had his own father prepared him for this new step in his life? Had the man taken the time to train his son to lead the people, to make the tough decisions surely he had already encountered?

The man was a stranger to me, someone I had avoided since the arrangement had been agreed upon. I had never taken the time to get to know him, to seek a man of compassion or a man afraid of the very heavy burden now placed upon his shoulders.

Was it possible I had criminalized this man without knowing him, without understanding him? Was it possible, I was completely wrong, and I could easily turn the ever-rising tide from hopeless to hopeful through compassion and understanding? As I lost myself in these thoughts, I chewed on my lip in consideration. Yåkov's rough voice disrupted my thoughts.

"I don't know. My father taught me that a king should have a firm hand, and had I backed down from the man, I would have shown weaknesses. I cannot have the people think that I'm weak, or easily manipulated. I must stand by the decisions of the Jarls and support them." His head bowed, as if under the weight of the incident itself, and shook from side to side.

Very tenderly I asked, "What if the Jarls are wrong? Do we need higher taxes?" I held my breath as I waited his reply.

His head jerked back up; his eyes conveyed the internal war fighting within him as my words seeped in. "The Jarls assure me that there is a need for the higher taxes." Eyes narrowed as he paused, "I believe them and trust them. I grew up with many of them, and know them possibly better than their own wives. They have no reason to mislead me."

Slowly I exhaled and considered my next words, "Well, perhaps we can compromise? What if we halted all taxes? What I mean to say is, that no more tax increases would be permitted for the time, and allow those behind on their taxes the window they need to gather the payments. Continue to collect monies from those who can afford and allow a determined period where no more taxes are collected from those who are unable to meet the demand. At the end of that time, those people must pay their debts and can begin again with a clean slate." Hastily, I lowered my eyes as drank deeply from my wine. Inside my head, I chanted over and over, _please work, please please work._ He paused in consideration.

I held my breath as I continued to drink deeply.

_ Please work._

"You make a valid point. I will consider it." He paused and inhaled deeply, "However, there is another matter we must discuss." My eyes rose to meet his and after a moment, he averted his gaze from mine. His hand reached for his own wine glass, and thick fingers wrapped around the goblet to raise it to his own lips. He drank deeply, swallowed thickly, and then after wiping his mouth with the arm of his sleeve, returned my gaze.

"Izabel, it has not escaped my attention that you have avoided me," My head jerked as he raised a hand, palm forward to silence me. "I understand that marriage can take some time to accustomed, however I feel you have had the time needed. I know that our union was agreed upon when you were younger, but I was already a man when my father informed me of our arranged marriage. While we did not spend time together prior, I must admit that I had certain expectations of what our marriage would hold." Again he paused and seemed to consider his words before he proceeded. "I suppose, I envisioned a union like my parents or yours – one built of mutual respect and one in which we worked together. Yet, you have yet to come to me, to talk with me about anything regarding our marriage or even the kingdom. I want you to talk to me, to spend time with me – I want a real relationship with you. And perhaps, I went about it the wrong way. But I'm ready now to correct that oversight, and to build something lasting with you. I want a wife."

His words shocked me, and I was unprepared for the intense gaze that met my own. The next words he spoke tumbled from his mouth rapidly, as if he were as nervous to say them, as I was to hear them. "Eat quickly, then we shall retire to my bedchamber."

The adrenaline shot through my system, chased by an overwhelming fear that stifled my mind. In my hands, the fork shook and clanged loudly against the plate, betraying the fear that now throbbed through me. To lay with him again was beyond what I was willing to do, beyond what I believed myself _able_ to do.

Blood on the steps, pooled around the lifeless landowner, flashed through my mind. His lifeless body, the frozen pain etched on his face seared within my vision. How great his sacrifice had been – one he could not live through. The words of my husband – his conflicted emotions that surrounded the landowner's death, his wish for a relationship swirled around these images and echoed throughout my mind. Could I lay with him again?

Unexpectedly, Jarpr's face flashed in my mind.

No. There must be another way.

With a thick swallow, I attempted to compose my face and hide my emotions as I spoke, "My King, I bleed and would be unable to complete a union with you." I knew that men would not lay with women who bleed, and although it was a lie, I hoped that he would not ask for proof. _Gods, please do not let him ask me._

His gaze narrowed before he spoke again, "It would appear, my Queen, as if you were reluctant to be intimate with me again." Thick fingers wrapped around his fork as he violently stabbed his own meat and roughly shoved it in his mouth. Teeth snapped together as he chewed, and his other hand reached for the wine glass between us. As his hand drew near me, I unwillingly flinched back towards my chair. Silently, I cursed my lack of discipline, cursed my body for its betrayal.

He swallowed, inhaled deeply, and spoke again, "However, there are _other_ ways to be intimate, Your Highness. Should you _wish_ to join me in my bed again, yet are encumbered by your current disposition, we could pursue these other methods of pleasure." Eyes sparkled wickedly as they sized me up and another chill passed through me all the way down my spine. More aware of my body's revulsion, I braced myself for the disgust and fear, and remained impassive – a blank slate.

"I am sorry, my King, but I am naïve in these matters and do not understand what it is to which you refer." My voice was level, even, and for the first time since the conversation began, did not betray me.

He chuckled, deep in his chest as his head lowered and shook it from side to side. "Ah, Izabel, I forget how untrained you are in the art of pleasure. To be blunt, there are other places for which I may enter you. Such as, your mouth."

Blood drained from my face as it slowly dawned on me what he wanted. His desire was to place _his_ … in my _….. _The nausea swelled inside me, threatened to overwhelm me as images from our wedding night bled into new images, new visions of what he wanted from me. My breathing quickened, became erratic, my heart thundered inside my chest, and for a moment I feared I would pass out. Black swirled behind my eyes, yet I fought to push it back, keep the fear at bay, and consider another excuse for why I could not do _that._

"My King," I stuttered, "I have never, well I don't know how to," my mind failed to find the appropriate words to refuse him. "I have never done _that_."

His face softened as his eyes drank in my obvious fear and this time his arm extended until his hot palm covered my hand. "Yes, I know wife. However, it is my responsibility, and might I add, pleasure to teach you how to do just that."

My mind scrambled to find another reason, another excuse to refuse him. Anything would be acceptable for me to say, except the truth. The truth, he both disgusted and frightened me, he had been rough and demanding before, and I had no desire to lay with him or do anything with him ever again. The mere act of his hand touching my own made the few contents in my stomach roll uneasily.

_What of the dead landowner? Is his sacrifice less than yours? _

Yes, the landowner who had given his life for what he believed to be right. Could I, in good conscience deny my husband and make a mockery of the death of that man? If I did _this_ with _him_, then I may begin to earn his trust, create an alliance, and turn the tide for my people. If I refused, the death of the landowner was for naught as Yåkov already expressed his suspicion of my original refusal. For my people I would have to do this.

His desire to rebuild, to create a relationship echoed again in my mind; his voice sounded so sincere. Perhaps, our first time would not be like this second time. Perhaps, he would be gentle and considerate, and I would have no reason to fear him.

I raised my eyes to his and nodded. A triumphant smile played upon his lips as he rose from his seat, "Come wife, let us retire." Although I felt cemented to my chair, I rose as well, and followed him.

Afterwards, I shuffled through the halls – past the dining hall, past the throne room, and past the many arches and windows that leaked in the moonlight. As I passed the dining hall, Leif straightened and moved to follow me. "Highness," I held my hand up as indication to pause.

"You may go Leif. I return to my chambers." Upon his face swam confusion, then concern, and finally realization.

"May I escort you, Highness?" he inquired, his voice slow and soft, as if to soothe my raw nerves. I shook my head from side to side. I felt dirty, and wanted to claw my own skin off, I feared that everyone could see the shame I desperately hide inside. He nodded his understanding, and with calculated movements, slowly withdrew from me.

Finally, the archway appeared in sight for my chambers and I felt myself relax again. With a sigh, I opened the door and slid inside. My eyes searched for my sisters, who I needed so terribly at this moment. Yet, none were here. I walked to their chamber; the fire was fed and roared within the pit. The room felt warm and inviting, yet every bed and chair was empty. My shoulders slumped as I realized I was alone, and while I desired to be alone with my confusion, I also wanted the comfort only they could provide.

Yåkov had surprised me. Images flashed through my mind of our time together, time that had completely contrasted our wedding night. While he had been rough and demanding that first time, this time he took his time and displayed great patience overcoming my nervousness. His hands had been gentle, as he had taught me how to pleasure him. My body had failed to respond to his touches, for which I was grateful. While my thoughts remained confused about this man, my heart and my body firmly rejected him.

With a sigh, I turned to exit their room and roughly collided with a solid chest. My heart hammered as the dull pain exploded in the bridge of my nose, and I took several steps away from the prescience. My fingers cradled my bruised nose while my vision, hazy from the slight pain, struggled to focus on the dark figure before me. I was unprepared, no weapons within easy reach and took more steps backwards until my shins met the legs of a table. A whimper escaped my lips from the secondary pain, but I fought through it. The chair, while heavy, could be used as a weapon and I felt my fingers automatically loosen their hold on my nose, as my elbows inched backwards in preparation to grab the solid object.

"Highness," the velvet voice spoke and I sighed with relief. It was only Jarpr. I should have known that only he could successfully catch me unaware. I detected a bit of roughness, or steel to his voice, as if he were muffling a rage lying beneath the surface. "I was sent for?" he inquired.

Brows furrowed I thought back over the events of today, past the most recent and earlier during my interactions with him. I could not recall requesting him to return. "No, I did not send for you." I replied, my hands now at my sides, the pain eased from both my nose and shins.

"I did not say _you_ sent for me. Only that I was sent for. Do you require a bath or a massage?"

In light of very recent events, I should have shuddered at the thought of another man's hands on me. Yet, the familiar hum that accompanied Jarpr's calming prescience eased any fears I had. I nodded my accord; his hand extended to mine – palm up, in an offer of assistance. My fingers found his and wrapped around his cold hand, and guided me towards my room. In the entryway, just below the arch of my door, he paused. "I will wait here while you ready yourself. Call for me when you are ready for me to enter." He bowed his head while his eyes continued to search my face for consent.

I turned from him and closed the door, then without thought slowly removed the red gown I wore and replaced it inside the dressed. Deliberately, I removed the stiff undergarments at my bosom and placed those in the drawer tucked inside the dresser then turned towards the bed.

No longer were the sheets tangled or tossed about from my restless night or startled awakening mere hours previous. Now the sheets were pulled tightly across the bed, the surface smooth before me. Pillows had been neatly arranged along the upper edge of the bed, and a stray flower had been placed in the middle – a gift from my sisters perhaps? Thought I had not seen them today, their presence was still felt through their thoughtful actions. My fingers curled about the top corner nearest to me and pulled the covers down to allow my body to curl comfortably beneath me. The coolness of the sheets that greeted my skin was comfortable and I pulled the lightest sheet back over my almost naked body, and then turned to lay on my stomach with my cheek pressed against the warming bed. "You may enter," I called out to Jarpr, unsure if he would hear me through the thickness of the door.

The entry opened and he stepped inside; with a brief turn he slid the door closed again and walked towards the nightstand near my bed. He retrieved the scented oils, and then approached the bed. With care, he lowered the oils to the stone floor next to the bed, and then spoke to me, "May I?"

My eyes closed and I nodded. His cool hands withdrew the sheet from my shoulders and pulled it down towards my waist, a chill passed through my skin as he quickly tucked the sheet securely about my hips and then retrieved the oil. I heard his hands rub the oil together between his palms before his skin met mine. His fingers probed and pulled at the tense muscles; with care he tugged each knot, each tight tendon until the tension began to melt away. "Tell me another story Jarpr," I requested.

"Of course your Highness. I have already told you about the gods of my country and their protectiveness of the people," he began.

"You had said there was a family of gods? I only recall the Mother and the one who wrestled with the mountains." His recount of the stories whispered by the old women of his country flitted across my memory, it was hazy at best and I struggled to remember the details. The deep laughter that built from his chest disrupted my thoughts as he laughed.

"Yes, yes. Uruz, the mountain god and Berchta the mother god; I am not surprised you recalled the story of Uruz wrestling with the Iza range. There is also Algir, a god of the warriors; he is the shield of the people who can bring peace or war to the land. There is a story whispered on cold, winter night of the early days, before Tyr was formed, and how the people began to fight and bicker. That's when the murders began," he said darkly.

A chill raced down my spine, "Murders?" I whispered.

Jarpr explained, "The people would go to Mother Berchta's temples, and pray to her, pleading for those things they were most in need of, and then their prayers were answered. When people were hungry, Berchta would bless a generous butcher or baker with a surplus of food, and the needy families would be fed; the blacksmith who had run out of ore would meet a travelling miner who was looking to lighten his load. As her blessing became more and more renowned, Berchta was greatly exalted for her gifts that she bestowed upon the people."

Jarpr paused and his face took on a more solemn countenance. He let out a brief sigh as he found the right words. His voice was just above a whisper as he continued. "Sadly, just as the people were beginning to rejoice over Berchta's blessing, the bodies began to turn up. At first, no one made much note of it, as no one had made the connection yet. But as more and more people were murdered, the pattern became obvious: someone, or something, was targeting those who had prayed to Berchta and had those prayers answered. The killers would steal the blessing, whether it be gold or food or livestock or other material possessions." His head shook angrily at the story, "These murderers preyed upon the weakest and neediest of people. Algir the Guardian became enraged, burdened by the grief and fear from villagers as the murders continued. The Earth itself shudders should he walk the land to engage in a battle himself, and when he entered the valley from the mountains, it is said the whole ground shook with fear."

"How did anyone connect the murders? Were they all in one village?" The story held me captive as his hands soothed the tense muscles alongside my spine.

"No, but the bodies found were drained of blood. They had been hung upside down and sliced open and the killers took every drop, probably for a sacrament of some kind, yet the brutality was unwarranted. Ansuz sent his son, Tiwaz – the god of honor and justice to assist Algir. Together they smote the hunters, the nomads who had viciously slaughter the innocents. Uruz the mountain god joined them, and the three god-brothers ripped each hunter's limbs from them while they still lived, then burned the remains outside the villages, as a warning to anyone who dared to repeat these heinous murders or to anyone who would prey on the weak. It is whispered that when the bodies were burned, the smoke burned a deep purple. These murderers were something terribly evil, something _not human_." He inhaled deeply before he continued, "It is said, the gods will revisit any evil they see upon the innocent, regardless of boundaries."

I imagined the dark, billowing smoke crawling upwards into a high purple tower, wafting into the villages, a symbol that both ended the horror of the murders, while this supernatural smoke chilled the hearts of the witnesses, proof that the murderers were something _other_. My own nightmare from several nights' previous came to the forefront of my mind and I shuddered beneath Jarpr's hands. He paused then, "Your Highness? Did my stories frighten you?"

"No, you have not frightened me. Your gods sound just and took the appropriate action for the people they protected. All beings, god or mortal are worthy of understanding." With the sheet secured about me, I turned my body, pulled myself into a seated position and looked into his face.

His face changed, showing confusion, "If you were not afraid, then why did you become so tense?" His hands still lingered on my shoulder, and they pulled at a tight and unyielding muscle.

I bit my lower lip and considered whether or not to share my dream with him, the images flashed before my sight again, another tremor shook my body. "I had a nightmare, several nights ago, it was shortly after you first arrived." My heart raced as the images flooded in. "It was horrible," I whispered, my voice small in my fear.

Jarpr sat directly in front of me, his hands reached behind my shoulders, massaging them. His cool fingers dug deep into my skin, finding the tight tissue at the base of my neck, in between my shoulders. My body shifted toward him, my back arched toward his, my chest almost touching his, my eyes closed in pleasure as the knots one by one faded away. He was so close to me I could feel the electricity humming from his body, a force field that surrounded him, his breath fanned my face, sweet, cool, and my eyes slid open. It was that moment that I became aware of the heat and tension between our two bodies; my torso felt strangely connected to his, as if a band surrounded us, and pulled us tightly together. His gaze met mine, his eyes a dark onyx, pupils dilated, and intensity I could not identify. My breath sputtered, hiccupped, and my heart raced again, not from fear this time, but something else, something I could not quite understand.

His face flashed with confusion, then anger before he regained his composure. Quickly, he untangled his arms from behind my shoulders and withdrew himself several feet away from the body. The absence of his nearness to me stung and stole my breath, causing my lungs to burn. "Highness, where were you before you returned to your chambers?"

My whole body flamed with embarrassment - shame at having reacted so physically to this strange, unknown man; and shame at my reaction so closely after leaving Yåkov's bedchamber. What did that make me? A woman who gave herself to her husband, but burned while in another man's arms? Was that what I did? Did I burn for Jarpr? Is this how my body was _supposed_ to respond to Yåkov's touches and caresses? Is this how I should feel towards my husband? Yet, this is how my traitorous body felt towards a servant, a disloyal servant instead? Anger filled me, shoved every ounce of shame from my veins as I responded, "I was with my husband," I answered.

"You should rest, Your Highness. I can return in the morning," his words were authoritative, while his tone requested leave from my presence.

"Thank you, Jarpr. You are excused." Within a moment, he was gone, the door sounding his departure as it clicked softly closed. I remained alone in the bed, my skin aflame, and the only thought in my head was a question. _Why did I do that?_

* * *

_There's a lot going on in this chapter and that I wanted to make sure to cover. Of course, we have to hear back from Leif to find out what's going on in the kingdom and wrap up that confrontation between Jarpr and Izabel. I really struggled with this chapter, because I have to keep moving her forward and that means she has to face some difficult things.  
I am very interested in your feedback regarding Jarpr, Leif, and especially Yåkov. Let me know what you think. I'm also still considering a Jarpr POV outtake chapter and would love to hear some requests. Reviews are better than chocolate. :)_


	10. Chapter 10: Training

Long after Jarpr's departure, my body lay unmoving in the bed. Muscles tensed from the stiff positions and I stretched my muscles. An immeasurable amount of time had passed as I had stared blankly towards the far wall and open balcony beyond. Frustrated, I tossed the covers from my body and returned my gown to my body, then walked towards the open balcony. The cold tile chilled my skin with each step I took, the flat underside of my foot plopped almost wetly against the stone, my toes curled and expanded as I walked. In just a few long strides, I reached the open balcony and rested my elbows atop the waist high wall to observe the night sky and land below. The mountain range sprawled lazily against the horizon; the tips seemed to reach towards the moon, the light reaching downward to bath the mountaintops in an eerie pale glow, while the base was lost to the shadows. The forest that stood between the mountains and the castle stretched almost endlessly, littered with tree branches that swayed and danced in the evening breeze. A lake lay beyond the trees, the reflection of the moon shone brightly on the still surface, so still among the dancing trees. Perhaps the little details were lost to me at a distance, perhaps the water rippled from the wind, or from fish that jumped into the night air to capture an instinct for dinner. It was so easy to loose myself in those woods, so easy to hunt and climb and not think on the confusion that surrounded my life. Had my life always felt this way? No. I had been happy, so very happy with my sisters, my father – everything had been right then. I frowned as I recalled the sinking in my stomach when I had occasionally thought of my _someday_ marriage to Yåkov, but the thought had always been fleeting and I had comforted myself with thoughts that something would change that future. I recalled fantasies of meeting someone with whom to fall in love with, someone I would _choose_ over Yåkov and that dreaded union would never occur.

It was in that moment that Jarpr's face – bathed in shadows, flashed before my mind. I grunted in frustration and ground my teeth together. Why did I have this reaction to a servant? Why did I allow my husband to use me? In a few short months, my life had gone from happy to confused at best, miserable at worst. Nightmares randomly plagued my sleep – either smokes and fire or Yåkov's hand on my body.

I felt – useless, helpless, and angry, angry because I was not any of those things. Angry because I could easily defend myself, because I was no one's pawn, angry because I had never felt so completely and utterly out of control. How could I regain control of my life? My body felt agitated and restless and I knew I would be unable to find sleep. Sharply, I turned on my heel away from the night sky and walked back into the room. Teeth captured my lower lip as I considered the options before me – I could return to my bed to sleep or go for a much-needed walk.

The bed loomed before me and I knew that was not where I wanted to be; decision made I slipped into my leather boots and swiftly exited my chambers with one location in mind – the forest.

The air nipped at my skin as I exited the hall and walked through the open courtyard. The arches, also bathed in a pale glow, greeted me as I passed beneath and walked towards the forest's edge. As my feet shuffled along the dirt and fading grass, I cursed myself for not changing from my gown into something more suitable. Too late to turn back, I knew I would have to make due with the long gown that brushed the earth below.

Leaves had begun falling from the trees, the night was cooler now as summer began to recede from the stifling hot days and warm evenings. The grass had also begun to fade, from the vibrant green of the spring to summer to a dull color that signaled the onset of fall. I passed by the large trunks and climbed over mossed covered logs until I reached the lake. It was quiet here, no noise from the forest animals could be heard here, surrounded by the thick oak trees the breeze was minimal here and while the lake was not as smooth as I had initially thought, the waters lightly lapped the edges where the dirt met the shallow water.

Yet, not even here could I escape my feeling of helplessness, and the anger threatened to bubble to the surface. With a groan I turned from the water to the nearest tree and decided physical exertion would surely help settle my mind. My fingers reached for the first branch and my leg stepped out to push against the bark of the trunk when a loud rip sounded by my feet.

I had ripped my gown.

That one action brought a smile to my lips.

My fingers released the branch and I knelt by the tree while I gripped the torn fabric and continued to rip along the edge until the fabric reached below my knees. The hem was now uneven and ugly, but the strange satisfaction gained from that one moment was gratifying. I returned my attention towards the branches and slowly began to pull myself upwards. Each branch I conquered felt like a small victory for me and I continued my climb until I was higher than I had been in a long time.

It had been years since I dared climb this high, and with a heaving chest from the physical challenge, I sat on a branch and peered down. I could almost hear the branches snapping as the memory of my fall filled my senses. The pain from the impact had been overwhelming and I had rolled around on the ground while the tears had fallen freely. The years were swept away with the wind as I recalled the blinding pain, the panicked guard, and then the knowledge that I was alone.

I had felt helpless then as well.

I knew something terrible had occurred, but the pain my body felt pushed the worry from my mind so a new terror could sweep through. The terror of being alone, possibly broken, on the forest floor, the knowledge that I was not as powerful or skilled as I had thought, the knowledge that none of my training could help me in that moment. It was a terrible feeling and yet, seated in this branch high above the forest and earth below, it anchored me to this moment. My breathing became labored as the stress threatened to overwhelm me, and no matter how I slowed my breathing or deeply I inhaled, my body still screamed for air. Blood ran cold and my fingers loosened their grip on the branch, they felt numb and almost frozen as I struggled to fill my lungs.

Then the voice was carried by the wind.

It was familiar, hauntingly so, and I felt my body begin to relax and my lungs finally filled with the air they so desperately needed. Was this the memory again? Did the memory wash through me and calm me now? The years were once again swept away in my mind, as that same voice continued to hum an unfamiliar tune, the voice perfect in clarity and pitch, and most importantly – soothing. As the panic subsided I struggled with my thoughts and memories.

The guard had departed, sought help and I had been alone. My cries had ripped through me until it felt as though someone were pressing down onto me and my body struggled frantically for air. It was then that the haunting melody had carried through the trees and almost immediately calmed me. The pain still pulsed through me, but it was almost as if it were background noise, no longer at the forefront of my awareness. The song had continued until the blackness consumed me, and when I had awoke – the guards had returned and were carrying me with great care back towards the castle.

Peering down again from the height of the branches, I acknowledged it was a good time to climb down, before any more panic consumed me or the forest sang any more forgotten melodies. Carefully, I climbed back down the tree, and further ruined my dress. I chuckled darkly and looked forward to throwing the garment into the fire in my room.

The return walk to the castle and my chambers was longer than I recalled the initial walk out, but it was still evening when I walked through the doors. Curiously, I toed softly towards my sisters' chambers to find their beds still empty. My brows knitted together as I wondered where they had spent the day and this night.

About to return to my own chamber, I heard a soft knock at the door. Turning, I walked towards the door and slowly opened it. On the other side stood an abashed Leif, who looked surprised by my answer.

"Good eve Leif. What brings you to my chamber?" I inquired. His eyes bulged slightly as he took in my appearance, no doubt dirtied from the forest and my gown ripped scandalously high about my knees.

His eyes averted my body while he spoke, "I was concerned Highness, and wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed greatly troubled," he explained.

I was about to dismiss him with my thanks when a new idea formed in my mind. "Thank you Leif, I appreciate the thought. Will you head to your room now?"

He shook his head, "No, I was unable to sleep and feel restless, I'll probably walk the halls." The idea blossomed in my mind at his answer.

"Would you be willing to train with me?" I requested.

Confusion bathed his face before he composed himself again, "Er, yes Your Highness, I can do that. Would you like to train in the maze again?"

I laughed, and it felt freeing as it bubbled from my chest onto my lips. "No, I had something quite different in mind. I train in the maze daily, but rarely get an opportunity for hand-to-hand combat, something I fear I am dreadfully less skilled in. Would you be able to train me, as the guards train?"

A bright smile lit his whole face as he nodded, "Yes, Highness. Meet me in the training courtyard in about half an hour?"

I nodded and excused myself to change. My body hummed with the excitement of a new challenge and my mind whispered to me that _this_ would make me feel more in control of my life. Quickly, I moved to my chest and changed my attire.

The stars twinkled above me as I drank in the cool night air of the training courtyard. Patiently, I awaited Leif's arrival with my knife laced to my side and a shield by my feet.

"Highness," the voice startled me and I whipped my body around in a start. Leif was bowed at the waist, his eyes cast down towards the ground, his arm behind his back. After a pause, he straightened his posture and towered above me.

Leif was dressed in a grey fur tunic and dark blue wool trousers, a large shield was gripped in his left hand, while a spear was held in his right hand. Dark eyes peered down from me, his blonde hair secured at the nape of his neck and a few strands tickled the tops of his shoulders. Alabaster skin gleamed in the moonlight in stark contrast to his darkened furs. "Are you ready to begin my Queen?"

"Yes, thank you Leif." With a nod his torso curved as he reached behind him and retrieved an odd bat wrapped in leather bits. He held the odd article out, extended towards me in offering. Curious, my arms reached for the item, my fingers slid down the surface feeling the sensation of cool leather that hinted at something beneath. "What is this?" I asked.

He nodded towards the article in indication that I should take it from him. I narrowed my eyes in confusion, the skin between my eyes pulled down in a slight "v". My arms extended to remove the bat from his grasp, fingers gripped around the center of the leather, and pulled upwards. The bat was exceedingly heavy and I struggled to hold it level as Leif had, my muscles ached from the exertion. "That is quite heavy, what is it?"

A chuckle escaped his lips as he watched my struggles, "This is the shaft of a battle axe wrapped in leather to create a more blunt instrument. It is used for Gilma training, which is what I will teach you."

"I can barely lift this, how will I train with it?"

He motioned to one of the large wooden pillars scattered throughout the courtyard and took long strides towards it. The pillar was as thick as an oversized warrior and stretched high in the sky, several feet above the tallest warrior. A thick-corded rope wrapped snugly around the pillar, like a snake around its prey, and continued upwards, stopping a few feet below the flat top. "Do you know what this is used for, Highness?" I nodded and he continued, "Well of course, this is used for climbing, but in Gilma training it is used for combat. Allow me," his hand extended to reclaim the shaft. With ease, his hands encircled the bat and swung mightily first to the right side then to the left. Each strike extended his limbs fully then his muscles bunched and strained as he pulled the bat from the elbows over his opposite shoulder to land another blow. He repeated the action a handful of times before he turned to me with explanation, "The shaft is meant to be heavy. It prepares a warrior for the strength required to carry both a shield and their sword or spear. You complete twenty strikes per side, and then we will progress to Buxantök. Though you are small in frame and as I have witnessed Highness, rather deft in speed and escape, you lack the skills to stand your ground, protect yourself, and fight."

My pride was stung with his comment, but it rang true. I had lost a brief yet simple sparring match to an untrained servant, how well could I expect to stand my ground against skilled and trained fighters and warriors? He returned the heavy article to my waiting hands and I struggled to keep the instrument level. With a grunt he instructed me, "Highness, strike the pillar – fully extend your arms and then return the shaft over your shoulder, repeat this action on each side." Thick, muscled arms demonstrated the actions while he spoke.

I nodded and took a deep breath. Muscles screamed in protest as I extended my arms and struck the pillar. The impact jarred me, shook me, and my fingers lost their grip about the hilt. With a soft _thud_ the bat fell to the ground, my toes inches from the impact. I panted with the exertion of _one strike_, and then lowered my gaze to my heated palms. Angry red splotches littered the inside of my palm and along the delicate undersides of my fingers. "I need something smaller, this is too heavy," I panted in an attempt to catch my breath.

Eyebrow arched, in amusement or confusion Leif answered me, "No, if you are attacked, your greatest weakness if your size and strength – both to endure and with which to attack. The primary focus here is to increase that endurance and your level of strength. An attacker will not care if something is too heavy for you, they will want it to be too much for you. Now – do it again."

Every nerve in my body screamed in protest as I reached out again for the bat and lifted it level with my chest. Again I struck the pillar and again the impact alone jarred and shook me. This time however, I did not drop the bat and I considered this a small victory. I turned my head and grinned at Leif, who with a smirk replied, "Eighteen more strikes My Queen, get to it."

Still wearing that goofy grin, I raised the bat again for another strike. By the time I completed twenty strikes on one side, my palms burned and itched, my shoulders were sore, and my back screamed in protest to my continued actions. However, stubborn as I was, I would not quit until I had completed twenty strikes on each side. After I completed the required strikes on the other side of the pillar, I turned towards Leif, chest heaving and asked, "What's next?"

I was cut short as he barreled towards me, his large warrior's body on the path for impact and I dodged to the side at the last moment. He turned back towards me and with a smirk stated, "Highness, you're not supposed to dodge the attack. You are supposed to be able to withstand and hold your ground. However, that will come later. Tonight, we are finished. Next time, we will complete twenty strikes and then use the shield." My eyes fastened to the large, thick shield he held and the smaller one I had brought with me, I was doubtful I could swing the bat _and then_ hold the oversized shield or even my smaller one. Ever observant, Leif answered my unspoken objection, "You cannot do this yet, but the point of the training is that you will be able to do so by the end. Come now, you must be exhausted." I nodded and allowed him to walk me back to my chambers.

The sky had lightened and I knew dawn rapidly approached, and with it a new day. After bidding Leif goodbye and changing into a dressing gown, I crawled back beneath the sheets of my bed, and allowed the exhaustion to pull me into a deep slumber.

* * *

**A/N:** To give you an idea of the time frame we are dealing with here: Yåkov and Izabel were married in late spring or early summer and two months later Jarpr shows up as a wedding gift from Tyr. The first half of the story takes place from mid/end of summer through what Americans celebrate as Halloween (which is a different observance for the Vikings). As such, we're going to see some developments in the coming chapter to set everything up for the whole second part of the story (which is again complete).  
I hope you are all still enjoying Izabel, even though I know the last two chapters her actions and decisions have been questionable at best. But remember that this is a different culture, she's in a very difficult position right now, and she's trying what she feels is the most non-violant approach to find a solution. So don't be too hard on her. She's also very much human and is prone to mistakes.

A bit of history: what Leif is teaching her is actually how Viking warriors trained, they really used the heaviest battleaxe hilts, wrapped them in leather, and beat them against corded poles or thick pillars. As Leif explained, the point of that exercise is for strength - to build up the ability to not only handle, but also fight with heavy and large weapons. After a warrior completed the strikes, they would have to wrestle (did you know Vikings invented modern day wrestling?) one another in one of three body positions - the first and easiest being bent at the knees while the last and most difficult was closest to the ground (knees on the ground).  
If you're liking the story, please consider leaving me a review. They always brighten my day and give me an extra pep in my step. Plus they let me know what you're thinking of the story, what theories you have, etc. And you know, I just love to read your theories - do any of them involve radioactive spiders or are they all of bad guys? ;-)


	11. Chapter 11: The Spy

If you spot any SM characters in here, they belong to her. The rest belongs to me - and Iceland. ;-)

* * *

I'm not sure what awoke me – the harsh light the seemed too bright for my eyes, the ache of my muscles, or the feeling that someone was watching me. Regardless, I snapped awake, harshly pulled from the hazy dreamlike state into awareness quite quickly. As I attempted to sit up in bed, my muscles screamed in protest – particularly those along my spine, shoulders, and arms. Those muscles were especially angry with me and screamed at pain to gather my attention.

It was, of course, Jarpr who was in my room with me. I had almost become accustomed to his stealthy prescience in my room or chambers, almost totally undetected by my senses. It was strange, I did not usually see, hear, or even smell him – rather I always _sensed_ him, a tug or a hum alongside the exterior of my skin that vibrated to my core always alerted me to his _prescience_. With this awareness, I stopped jerking or becoming defensive when I became aware of someone else in my room, and had resigned myself to that "someone else" typically being Jarpr. I chuckled as I realized this would most likely save me sore shins and a bumped nose in the future. The chuckle was cut short though as the soreness radiated from my rib cage and expanded into my neck and shoulders. I probably should not have gone straight to bed after the training session with Leif; I should have called Jarpr for another massage.

Then I remembered – he had been angry with me. _Again_. I groaned loudly and allowed my body to fall back into the pillows and sheets.

_He is always angry with me._

_Why do you care?_

That was a good question – why did I care? He was a servant, a disloyal servant who was beneath my station. Yet, I cared and it frustrated me to no end. I chewed on my lip as I recalled the previous evening – the climb in the trees, the panic attack, the training with Leif. I needed to find some control in my life and the first step had been training with Leif. The next step was to get a handle on the situation with Jarpr.

Would he be friend or foe?

_Admit it, you are too drawn in to consider him an enemy._

Friend it was.

With another sigh I called to him, "Jarpr, I know you are here."

Suddenly, he appeared at my bedside, bowed at the waist with his ever-present hood covering his head, his eyes held my gaze. "Yes, Your Highness," he acknowledged. His tone was tense, which frustrated me. Was he still angry?

"Jarpr, please draw me a bath, and I'll need a massage as well." He nodded his agreement and turned to leave, "And Jarpr? I'll need your help," I fought the urge to wink at him wickedly, but rather enjoyed his reaction. His jaw went slack and his almost glowing orbs widened before he composed himself.

"Of course, Highness," he muttered, and then turned to leave.

Alone in my room, I giggled. Apart from the hunting trip with Nada, I could not recall feeling so light and free, almost giddy – I felt more like my old self than I had in weeks and months and I relished the feeling. I slowly sat up and tested my sore limbs as Jarpr brought hot water in from the fires to fill the tub. When it was filled and ready for me, he returned to my bedside where I sat pulling and stretching my limbs slowly to test them. He extended his hand, palm up, to assist me in rising and I eagerly took it and grasped it firmly. The electricity shot through me and as he tugged me upwards, where our skin met felt tied together with an invisible rope. I released the breath I was holding and before I could stop myself asked, "Do you feel that?"

His eyes widened again and he lost his grip on me; my body had relied upon his hand to steady itself and I fell backwards into the sheets and bedding again. The laugh escaped before I could stop it, and again it felt as if a burden had been lifted from me. "Why did you drop me? I've never seen you drop anything," I giggled as I pushed off the bed and stood next to him.

"Your bath is ready," he replied sullenly and gestured towards the steaming water. I giggled again and pushed on his hard chest as I passed, the hum was muffled this time but still there.

Feeling wicked, I pulled loose the ties that bound the bodice of my dressing gown together and allowed the fabric to drop to the floor as I walked the remaining steps to the tub. I thought I heard a crunching sound as I lowered myself into the bath. I sighed, contented, as the water enveloped me and soothed my tense and sore muscles. With my eyes somewhat closed, I turn my head back with my cheek resting against the edge of the tub towards Jarpr, who stood motionless by the bedside staring at me, "Will you bathe me?" I asked sweetly. He walked painfully slow to the tub until he was at my side, then reached for the conker soap and lathered it between his palms. I lowered my body further into the water until my head was fully submerged and then rose again and leaned against the edge closest to Jarpr. His fingers probed my scalp as he slowly massaged the lather into my hair. I moaned from the sheer pleasure it elicited and almost whined when he stopped. With a groan, I submerged my head in the water while the water rinsed the soap from my tresses and then emerged from the water.

Jarpr cleared his throat and I turned to him in acknowledgement; his fingers were curled tightly around the rough sponge and had already lathered the conker soap into the material. I sat up straighter as he washed my back, but found my bravado scamper away when it came time to wash the rest of my body. Again Jarpr cleared his throat and annoyance shot through me – why should I shy away from this servant? It was Jarpr after all who had insisted that he could be my servant, that he – as eunuch would be perfectly suited to assist me with bathing, massages, and the like. Something inside warned me I was about to go too far, but the fleeting feeling of being wholly unburdened was so freeing and alien to me that I rushed forward without another thought.

Rashly, I pushed my shoulders back and cocked my head to the side as I almost purred, "Jarpr, please finish before the water cools." _Stop!_ My head screamed and yet I continued to stare him down; his beautiful face contorted from emotionless to hunger to rage. His hand strained against the sponge before he threw it violently into the water, rose and sharply turned away from me.

"No," his voice was cold and distant, and genuine fear shot through me as I hastily moved to cover myself with my hands. "Bathe yourself," he hissed and exited the chamber with a slam of the door.

_Gods, what had gotten into me?_

I flinched as the door shuddered from the impact and fought the urge to cry. My emotions were all over the place – from giddy, to wicked, to almost in tears – what was wrong with me? Hurriedly I finished washing my body and quickly exited the tub. Numb fingers opened the doors to my wardrobe and I quickly pulled a forest green gown from the drawers with my woolen undergarments. After I dressed, I sat on the edge of the bed and combed through my damp hair with my ivory comb while I lost myself in thought.

What had happened? Why had I behaved so rudely towards Jarpr? My body flamed in embarrassment as I recalled dropping my dress in front of him, of teasing him with my naked body. _Gods I was openly naked in front of him_. Would I ever be able to face him again? What if he told someone? What if Yåkov found out? I shuddered to think of his reaction to his wife – the woman who rejected intercourse with him, disrobing and teasing her servant.

The frustration returned full force – _why am I allowing this to weigh me down?_ My mind screamed in anger and reminded me that only moments prior I had felt free and happy – a feeling to which I was no longer accustomed. I dropped the comb and turned into my pillow to scream. My throat burned from the sound ripped from my chest, all the anger and helplessness pouring out of my body into this pillow.

The door opened loudly again and I peered up to see Jarpr standing in the doorway – he looked both gloriously angry and concerned. "Highness, why were you screaming?"

I was so angry with him.

I did not want to be angry with him.

"You!" I screamed and my hands flew to my mouth in embarrassment.

_Tell him how you feel._

_Put him in his place._

It flowed freely then and I could not stop my tirade, "You Jarpr! Ever since you came here things have been unbalanced! You sneak around the castle; show up randomly in my chambers even when I have not summoned you, and talk to me in a manner a servant should not speak to the Queen. I know you are disloyal to the kingdom and yet still you continue to throw everything off! What is it about you? How are you different? How can you make me feel as if you are a friend one moment and the next, this angry animal?! You confound me and I know not what to do with you!" My anger seemed to evaporate as the words fell from my lips and had left me a panting mess, my skin flamed from the embarrassment, and already I regretted revealing my frustrations to him.

He stood motionless as he absorbed my words, and then ever so slowly closed the door and walked over to the bed. In a fluid motion he sat next to me on the bed and sighed. His head hung low as if he was ashamed, and his shoulders hunched as if he was deep in thought. "Highness," he began, and then paused before continuing, "why do you support your husband? Why do you go to him at night or dine with him?" His head raised and his eyes met mine, the questions clearly burned into the intense gaze.

"No," I answered. "No, I will not answer your questions – I know you are a s-spy," I stumbled over the last word, unwilling to say it aloud but needing to acknowledge it. Why should I share any information with him? Every instinct screamed that I could and should trust him, while my mind roared over the chaos with a resounding "no".

Sensing my conflict, he stepped closer, "Very well. Yes, I'm a spy – I was very intentionally sent here with the sole purpose of gathering information regarding the change in leadership." His head cocked to the side as he spoke, "I find it interesting that you are the only one with your doubts regarding the nature of my being sent here. Except, Yåkov, but he is paranoid about everyone – even you."

Questions flew through my mind in rapid succession, so quickly I was unable to process one before another popped into my mind. My head began to throb as the overwhelming sensation continued and I pressed my hands to my temples. Jarpr's voice broke through the maddening pressure, "I have answered your question, now answer mine."

I shook my head – there were so many questions I had, so many that I wanted to ask him, and yet I was unable to pick just one question to ask first. "No, I have so many questions," I began.

His hand cupped my chin and turned my head to face his again, "Then how about a compromise? For every question I answer, you must answer one as well," I nodded reluctantly in agreement and he continued, "I have answered one question, so allow me a question as well. Why did you side with your husband in court?"

The pressure continued to build and expanded into my chest, I felt as if I could not breathe and I struggled to inhale deeply. Jarpr's brows furrowed as he observed my chest heaving and the wheezing sounds that escaped my lips. "Highness, lie back and on your side," he lowered me to my back and gently helped roll me to my side, then continued. "Does your head hurt?" he inquired.

I nodded.

"Can you breathe?"

I shook my head frantically.

"This will pass, breathe in as deeply as possible, and even though your body will fight it, hold that breath while you count to five, then release it." I did as he instructed until my breathing calmed and the pressure began to fade in my head.

"Very good. Now slowly sit up and face me," he guided me into a sitting position and then sighed. "Do my questions make you anxious?"

Again I nodded, and looked down guiltily.

"Very well, we will have to take this slowly then. You answered a question for me, do you have a question you wish to ask?"

Again I nodded and with a deep inhale I asked my next question, "Why are you here?"

He seemed to consider this question longer than my outburst earlier and it worried me. Was the reason for his prescience here that bad? Was my kingdom in more jeopardy than I originally thought? "Highness, did you know that Tyr and Dagez have a long standing alliance with one another?"

I shook my head in confusion – no I had never know the two lands to be allies, of course there were no records that the two lands were enemies either. Instead, I had always considered the lands to be neighbors who never regarded the other; we were just there – neighbors. "Tyr was born from violence, I must admit. Our histories have been passed down through generations. The story I shared with you last night was one of how the country was formed. Ingólfur Arnarson, who became known as the Wolf King was greatly intrigued by the gods' blessings among the people and while his men had murdered several people who had received blessings, it was Ingólfur who began sacrificing children in hopes of calling the gods to him – to do his bidding and make him a powerful ruler. The first King Vanir, at the time a Jarl in the south, closer to Dagez's borders, heard of the sacrifices and stormed the Wolf King's castle. The battle was violent and ended with the death of the Wolf King; however Vanir praised the gods of Tyr for his success in battle and were pronounced the new King of the land. It is said that Dagez's first king, Kiev of Norway heard rumors of the Wolf King and his death so he traveled to Reykjavík where the palace was located to meet King Vanir. The two formed an instant friendship and vowed to be allies for the other. Even though this agreement was made hundreds of years ago, the alliance is still honored in Tyr today." He paused and waited further questions from me.

I had never heard this story before – had my father known of our alliance with Tyr? Had he ever met their king before? Surely he would have mentioned it to me? I wondered how this knowledge had passed through generations in Tyr and yet had not been passed down through the royal family in Dagez? Why would a kingdom aware of the alliance send a spy to their friends? It made no sense. "Assuming what you say is true," he moved to object and I placed my hand up to stop him, "Then why spy on your allies?"

He nodded and the continued, "King Vanir,"

"Wait," I interrupted him. "King Vanir? The King who killed the Wolf King?"

Jarpr chuckled and shook his head, "No, it is tradition in Tyr that regardless of name, the King is always addressed as King Vanir, it is in honor of the gods' favor for the original king who saved the people from the Wolf King." He chuckled again and waited to continue.

"So who is the King now?" I asked.

Jarpr shrugged his shoulders, "I would not know. I do not see the king often, and would never address him by his first name anyways, as a servant I would always address the King as His Majesty or King Vanir." Satisfied I motioned for him to continue.

"King Vanir was very concerned about the rumors that reached the palace regarding Dagez – rumors that the king had been murdered, that the new king – Yåkov, neglected the people. Out of the concern for his allies, he sent a spy to observe and search for the truth. He wanted to know if Yåkov presented a threat to the people of Dagez and if, in turn, the people would likely to pose a threat to the people of Tyr. If your people are starving or loosing their lands, it is the land of Tyr they are likely to turn to for help or to ravage."

I turned his words over in my mind and recalled that I too had worried about the relationship with Tyr as a result of the higher taxes, people loosing their homes, and possibly starving. Then his earlier words seemed to slam into the forefront of my mind. "Wait, you believed my father to have been murdered?" My eyes bulged as I considered this news and chewed my lip while I considered his death anew.

"Highness, I've answered more than one question. Please, answer mine. Why did you side with your husband in court? You obviously knew it was wrong, but you agreed with him anyways, why?"

My body stiffened, could I reveal my plot to this servant? This same servant who had already admitted to being a spy in my kingdom – could I reveal my own plot to him? "Highness," he spoke softly, "I have already revealed very damning information regarding myself and Tyr. The information you now hold could incite a war between the two lands. I have trusted you with the truth, please trust me as well."

I nodded again. "I am trying to earn his trust," I replied. I dared a glance at Jarpr and saw his face soften, and his eyes pleaded with me to continue. I sighed, "I am deeply worried about what is happening in the kingdom, but I feel so overwhelmed with how to fix it. Father taught me that violence should always be the last course of action, and diplomacy should always come first. I had thought, if I sided with him in court and," my mind briefly flashed back to our shared dinner and what occurred afterwards, "placated him, I would be able to earn his trust and shift his actions towards repairing our kingdom."

Jarpr sat frozen next to me, and the silence hung thick and heavy between us. When he spoke next, his voice sounded rough and hoarse, "How has that worked out for you?"

My shoulders shook as I saw flashes in my mind of the lifeless body of the landowner, as I saw my husband's face at dinner, as I recalled his hands on my body. "It has not been a total failure," I whispered. "I have gotten him to open up to me, and he said he would consider halting all taxes."

Jarpr growled and he bit out his next words, "Does this include sleeping with him?"

I gasped at his blunt words and I itched to slap him, "Yes, Jarpr, it includes fulfilling my duties as his _wife_ and going to bed with him. I am married to the man, he is the king, and at some point the kingdom will expect an heir." I replied sharply; I would not mention the utter disgust I felt with Yåkov's hands on me, or the flashes of Jarpr's face that plagued my guilty conscience.

He sighed roughly and pushed off from the bed; he paced loudly in front of me before he turned and looked at me again. "I can see this was a mistake, I should take my leave."

My mind panicked at his words. _Don't let him leave!_ I felt the blood drain from my face, my hands turned cold, and the panic spread through my body, through each limb was ice water. "No, don't leave. Please don't leave Jarpr," I whispered. He lowered his body onto his knees at my side and looked into my face. "I can't explain it Jarpr, but you calm me, I feel safe with you." I grunted as I tried to make the words make sense, "You make me so angry – I cannot recall ever being as angry as frequently with anyone but you. Yet, at the same time, I feel so drawn to you, as if we could be great friends, and it is too soon to loose that."

He groaned, "It is not fair for you to feel this way, Highness. I will leave eventually, you do know that don't you?" I nodded as I felt the hot sting of tears behind my eyes. "Good. However, perhaps a friendship – for the time being – would be mutually beneficial." He seemed to think on this before he continued. "Highness, I must stress a few things though – do not venture out alone in the night anymore – to the longhouses or to the forest. Please, send for me and I will accompany you, but do not go out alone."

"Alright, I can agree to that."

Another groan from Jarpr then he spoke again, "Also, I should tell you that I am not really a eunuch and while my control is excellent, please do not taunt me again. It really angered me." I gasped at the realization that I had disrobed and flaunted my body in the prescience of a very _capable_ man; my skin flamed from the embarrassment and I hid my face behind my hands.

"I am so sorry!" I cried, "I do not understand what came over me! I am so sorry Jarpr!" Gently, he pried my hands away from my face and cupped them between his cold, hard hands. He looked at me with an intense stare that started a fire in my stomach.

"Highness, I knew it was not your typical behavior, and could not fathom why you would behave in such a manner. It angered me because of my reaction to you – the same, I wager, any man would have towards a beautiful woman. I can still gather water for a bath, and give you a massage, however I need you to remain covered. Can you do that for me Highness?"

I nodded, the embarrassment still flaming inside me and something else, something I could not identify. "I think that is enough for today, don't you?" he asked lightly. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I agreed with him. "Good, let's begin the day – well, afternoon in today's case."

My eyes widened into saucers as I realized how late I had slept and how long we had been talking. "Wait," my hand reached out for his arm to anchor him to my side, "your king believed my father was murdered?"

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A/N: I feel the need to explain this chapter somewhat, because when I wrote it myself I was left with a very "what the heck just happened?" feeling. When I'm writing, I do my best to get into my characters' heads and in essence am writing the story as it unfolds in greater detail in my mind. In fact, some of the chapters written were written completly out of order because an event would occur in my mind but I did not have a clue where it fit in the overall story. After I wrote this chapter, I started re-reading some of psychology books on why Izabel would be acting SO OOC from this story. Stress - she's having anxiety attacks (I'm hoping you caught that), she's not sleeping well, and now her behavior is changing. She feels very burdened by everything going around and the training with Leif was sort of her escape.

With that said, here's some more historical information for you:

Conker Soap: Did you know Vikings were amongst the most clean culture in their time period? They bathed everyday, washed their hair, brushed their hair - everything. They made their own soaps from conkers - a kind of chestnut that they used for bathing and "shampoo". There's even recipes online with instructions if you wanted to make your own. :)

Ingólfur Arnarson: Real person - very violent and was actually known as the Wolf King (sorry no werewolf connection there). He fled from Norway as a fugitive in a blood fued and became the petty king of Reykjavík. He was called the "Kingly Wolf" or "Wolf King" because of the violence he held towards his own people.

Also, the settlers of Iceland (where this story takes place) did actually believe in "new gods" and "old gods", including but not limited to trolls, giants, and demons. Makes you think. ;-)

If you're still enjoying this story, please consider leaving me a review. I return to work today and would love to have reviews popping up in my email to brighten my day. It's even better than a bath from Jarpr. ;-)

Also, just a heads up - I know I've been spoiling you all with daily updates lately, but at some point I do have to complete my finals for the class I'm in, however finals are all finished on Monday so then I can spend my next day off writing again.


	12. Update with Teaser

**A/N:** I know, I know - it should be a real update. I feel terrible I have failed to update this story but I wanted to give everyone an update and assure readers that I have not abandoned this story. RL has been quite busy and honestly, I was hit with writer's block. I've had the story outlined from beginning to end, but was still left with filling in the gaps. A blessing in disguise was my family getting sick last week and extending all the way through this week (they are still sick - darn flu). But as I moved from room to room, refilling water bottles, bringing medicine, and overall just being surrounded by three different bedrooms of coughing, sneezing, and sleeping bodies I finally had a chance to sit down and write.

I've written the story from the peak through the end. The ending is planned - I can see it in my head, but I'm having trouble translating that to words. There's been a lot of writing, then deleting, and then more writing. I will be tackling the beginning half of the story this weekend and next week and hopefully will have another update by the middle to end of next week. **Fingers crossed** Once I update Chapter Six - please be assured the updates will resume to a weekly schedule. Yay!

If you are a beta, please let me know if you'd be interested in helping me iron out the story.

Wrapping up, I hate when a story I'm following pops up in my email with an update only to find a note from the author. However, as I stated above - I didn't anyone to think I'd abandoned the story. So to soften the annoyance, I've also left you a teaser for a much later chapter - be kind, it's in the buff. Enjoy and please leave me a review! :-)

* * *

"That is not best, Highness. Do you require assistance dressing?" Sidestepping my advances, he dodged to my side and retrieved a dress remarkably similar to the one I wore under my cloak upon entering his quarters.

Tears pooled in my eyes, but I would _not_ cry. I was unsure as to _why_ he was behaving – acting in this manner towards me, but I did not for a moment believe it. I yanked the dress from his grasp before depositing it upon the floor, "No, I do not require any assistance." I seethed. Then I dropped sheet I had clutched to my naked body.

"Tell me Jarpr, tell me you do not want me," His eyes instantly adverted my gaze and my body, his frame stiffened, and I could have sworn he was no longer breathing.

"I do not want you, Highness. Please, cover yourself."

"Look at me Jarpr! Look at me when you send me away."

His gaze returned to mine and I had to bit down on my lip to hold the shocked gasp back. His eyes reflected that of a storm – an angry, conflicted, raging storm. Although he tried not to drink in my naked form, his eyes – traitors to their master – worked down and then back up my body. Bravely, I took a step closer to him. "Please, come to bed," I whispered and extended my hand in invitation. He froze, uncertainly clouded his face.

I took another step.

And another.

Another step, until my chilled, naked form was pressed against his almost naked body. He had donned his leather trousers again, but his chest remained bare. My fingers brushed the tops of his shoulders and up his neck. Slowly, I leaned my face closer to him and breathed against his shoulder, my lips climbed higher, to just below his ear, "Please, come back to bed," I whispered. My tongue flicked between my lips, wetting them, while also wetting the hidden dip behind his ear.

A low growl escaped him; a deep vibration that gathered in his chest and slowly built up into his throat and escaped from his tense mouth. "Please," I added and pressed myself more fully to his naked torso.

"Dammit," was all he whispered, then he gathered his arms around me and in two large strides returned me to the bed.

* * *

**Nope they haven't had sex. Don't get too excited. Are they going to have sex? You'll have to wait to find out because my lips are sealed. ;-)**


	13. Chapter 13: Afternoon Games

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters belong to SM - plot and original characters are all mine. :)

* * *

Jarpr studied my shocked face as I attempted to absorb his words. _Murdered? Father was not murdered. He died a natural death._ My brows furrowed as I recalled his last days, he had not left his bed – his breathing had been difficult and came in short, wheezing bursts. He had been in continuous pain from the coughing fits that shook his frame and it was in those last days that the blood had been expelled from his lungs and stained his lips and chin. I shuddered as I recalled the endless hours I spent at his bedside, hoping and praying to the gods that relief would come, that his body would heal and he would jump from the bed ready to greet the day.

Yet the day never came.

Instead, I had fallen asleep, curled on my side next to him in the bed – awaiting his revival, and awoke to his cold corpse in the early hours of the morning. He had died in the night, and before the sun rose that morning I had lost the man I loved dearly - my father, my friend, and my mentor.

He was gone.

He would never awaken.

He would never again walk the maze with me, or chastise me for a foolish action. I was now alone in the world and it terrified me.

No, he had not been murdered.

Although I was angry at the life that had been stolen from him.

I was angry that he was no longer with me or with the kingdom.

And then I was afraid again.

I was afraid of the impending marriage to Yåkov; and angry that I had no time to mourn my father when I was married the stranger only days later.

No, he was not murdered.

My eyes stung from the unblinking stare I had fixed Jarpr in, and only when he gently shook my shoulders did I blink and refocus my sight on him. "Highness, it was a theory, that is all."

I felt confused. Theory? People died, that was the natural order of life – how could a death after the struggle with illness be misunderstood as murder? One was natural – unfortunate, yet still natural; while the other was the intentional action of stealing one's life away. How had this theory occurred? When did Tyr even know of my father's death?

"How could it be a theory? He was sick for days Jarpr," I explained.

He shook his head, eyes conflicted and my stomach rolled. What was he keeping from me? "Highness, I cannot explain. I need you to trust me."

Trust him? He admitted to being a spy in my kingdom! How could I possibly trust him? "Please, Highness. When I am able, I will explain. For now, please trust me."

I arched an eyebrow at him skeptically, "You promise?"

His head bobbed up and down in agreement, "Yes, you have my word." It was then his head cocked to the side, as if hearing or listening to someone and his face morphed from one of comfort to one of frustration. "Highness, I must entreat you to trust me further. It is urgent that I depart now, but please trust that I am nearby and will not allow any harm to fall you."

His words sent a chill through my body, as I feared what caused this reaction. Yet, obediently I nodded; as if the decision left him conflicted he rocked on his heels – as if to rise, then to remain at my side. He groaned and then swiftly and soundlessly departed the chamber. I was left with the jumble of thoughts in my mind about the nature of his visit, the theory surrounding my father's death, and the small voice that whispered that my time with him had been stolen. These thoughts consumed my focus and it was only when I head the familiar sound of boots meeting the floor did I jerk myself alert.

Idly, I turned and rose from the bed and walked towards the seating area of the main chamber. There I observed Yåkov in the middle of the room, hands hung limply at his sides and he stood next to the game littered across the floor. His dress was more casual than I had seen before, his hair neatly bound at his neck, his wool tunic was a gray color and the ends lined with a russet colored fur, brown leather boots met his lighter brown trousers. No crown sat upon his head or any other distinguishing ornaments announced his station. Each time I had seen him previously; his station had always been obviously displayed through his clothes – from rich, bold colors of fabric to family crests made of silver and secured with rich leather strappings; yet in his plain, blandly colored clothes he could easily pass for a landowner or even a peasant in the kingdom.

Soundlessly, I walked towards him and waited until I was near him to make my approach known. He turned swiftly on his heel and offered me a smile. "Ah Izabel," he greeted, then inclined his head towards the game, "do you play?"

I returned his smile and nodded, "Yes, I usually play with my maidens. Have you played before?"

"Yes, my father and I used to play when I was a child." His voice sounded off – almost emotional perhaps, but not quite like the confident, boisterous man I had observed. His possible emotion touched something in me, and repelled as I had previously felt – something stirred and I felt a need to comfort this unknown man. I reached towards him and placed my hand on his shoulder, hoping the gesture would communicate the comfort I wished to give.

"Would you like to play?" I asked him.

A sad smile expanded on his face, "Yes, I would like that very much."

We sat opposite of the other and gathered opposing stones to play. Yåkov took the first turn and I considered my next move. Father had also played this game with me – he had considered it to be a teaching tool for strategy. Strategy, he had said, was to always be thinking of the future, to consider both your own and your opponent's future moves – their tricks and the varying possibilities and outcomes.

As I pondered where to place my stone, I saw many possibilities on the board; possibilities with Yåkov; possibilities with Jarpr; possibilities with my kingdom. What were the potential outcomes from these contrasting possibilities? Inwardly, I scowled as I realized that there were no real possibilities with Jarpr – a fleeting friendship at best that would be abandoned after his departure; there were only two possible outcomes with Yåkov and my kingdom – we would thrive or we would whither and possibly die. With an uncertain bit on my lip, I placed the stone in the worst location, one easily overtaken by the opponent.

Yåkov grinned at my decision, and in that moment his features transformed into those of a happy, giddy boy; unmarred by the pressures of leadership or the burdens of a kingdom. His smile was infectious and I found myself smiling in reaction to his obvious glee. We played several rounds in companionable silence; a few "oohs" and "ahhs" when one was bested, but overall a comfortable and pleasant time. We had played for hours, neither speaking to the other as we sat, played, and thought.

It was near the end of the last round that I ventured forth with questions, "Yåkov, were you close with your father?" I recalled that his own father had died not long after my own, and his mother a few years prior. Did he mourn his father as well? Had I neglected him during his own time of need?

Yåkov was silent for a moment, his fingers wrapped tightly about a stone, knuckles white and flesh strained against the bone. Gently, I placed my hand above his as a sign of comfort. "Yes," came the abrupt answer, "We were very close."

"Do you miss him?" I inquired.

He nodded but did not answer. Instead, I pulled my hand back and he played his next move, his winning move that completed the game. We remained seated in silence for a long moment before I spoke again, "We can play this again if you would like. Perhaps you can even allow me to win a few games," I teased.

The smile on his face this time was obviously forced, but I did not push for more information. "Yes, I would like that." I wanted to ask him more about his father, someone whose opinion he obviously respected, someone who had molded him into the man that stood before me. I wondered how his father had related to him, what activities they participated in together, what they discussed and agreed or disagreed upon? Yet, the silence hung between us, as neither seemed comfortable to be the first to speak.

It was only when my feet began to feel weighed down and numb, did I stand, stretch my limbs, and notice the passage of time. It was the first encounter with Yåkov that my heart did not thunder wildly, my blood rush through my body, or I fought the instinct to put several doors' worth of distance between us.

"Thank you, Izabel. That was fun." His eyes looked heavy, as if tired, and I wondered how he had spent the day. Had he held court? Had he met with Jarls regarding the taxes? I searched my mind for Yåkov's approximate age, and realized he was in his mid thirties – still a relatively young age for a man, especially for a Jarl. How had this man become so tired looking, worn out – as if the world rested on his shoulders? Were the affairs of our kingdom in such dire conditions or was the strain of heavy leadership beginning to wear slowly upon him?

"My King, what brought you to my chambers?" I inquired, curious as to why he sought me out. My mind scanned through our previous encounter, searching for any reason in particular that would draw him to my chambers. Quickly, my mind flashed over his promise to teach me the pleasures of intimacy, but he had made no move towards my bedchamber or to touch me outside of the game. Our hands had brushed against one another while we moved the stones to different positions, and I found myself not cringing away from the contact.

"I thought since I had sent your maidens away, I should be the one to explain they would be gone a few more days." My head cocked to the side as I turned over the information, my mind felt foggy as I tried to place the days together and count how long my sisters had been gone. As I recalled the past few days, I realized that each time I had dismissed their absence because of my erratic sleeping patterns – waking late in the afternoon and assuming they had returned while I slept. Clearly, this was not the case.

"Yåkov, what do you mean, sent them away?" I inquired.

His face was awash with confused, brow furrowed, as he gazed at me. "Did that servant not inform you? I sent them away prior to our dinner, and I had sent him to notify you. They were only supposed to be gone a day, maybe two at the most. However, they sent word back that they needed more time."

"Time for what?" My concern grew as I realized that servant was Jarpr, and he had neglected to inform me of something so important. Thoughts nagged inside me, _if it had been so important, you would have made more of an effort to find them._ Conflict rolled through me, as I knew I had made no efforts to locate them, but had appeased myself with notions that I had missed their comings and goings, rather than asking where they were. Shame also coursed through my body as I realized what a poor friend and sister I had been.

Yåkov sighed again and shook his head from side to side, "I will have to speak with that servant again – he was given instructions to tell you about this. No matter, I know that you send the handmaidens to feed the people each day at the wall. I know that with the rising taxes and coming autumn people may not have the supplies they need to face the coming seasons, so I sent the maidens to each village to deposit bags of grain for the people. They sent word back that they are helping the people to prepare their homes for the winter, and would need a few more days."

"Why did they not tell me before they left? Why did you not mention this at our dinner?" The questions fell from my lips before I could censor them.

Yåkov's cheeks flushed and he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, "I was nervous about our meeting – we had not really talked or anything since our wedding. I guess I just forgot to bring it up. I do not know why they did not say goodbye or inform you of their departure, I'm sorry Izabel."

I shook my head and smiled at him, "It is not your fault – and I am happy to know where they are." A thought troubled me though – why would he send women on a potentially dangerous mission? A group of women traveling the roads between villages could be easily over taken, robbed, and attacked. I knew they could easily handle themselves, but he should not have this confidence. "Yåkov, did you send any escorts with them? Or did they go alone?"

His brow furrowed in confusion, "Of course, I sent a couple of guards with them. I do not anticipate any trouble, but of course sent protection. Why do you ask?"

Realizing my mistake, I quickly explained, "I was merely concerned, they are more than able to distribute food along the walls of the castle, but I worried for their safety along the roads to the villages. Thank you for protecting them," I quickly added.

He sighed again, this time in relief before he stood and crossed the few feet between us. Easily, the man stood a few inches taller than myself and I had to tilt my head upwards to see into his face. The hand at his side twitched, and then slowly made its way up towards my face; with deliberate care his hand cradled my cheek as he gazed down at me.

"Thank you for playing the game with me, I had a nice time." I nodded and he continued, "May I kiss you Izabel?" his voice was thick and eyes dark as his gaze locked onto my mouth.

Mutely, I nodded – unable to form the words or trust my voice. Did I want him to kiss me? No. My body seemed to scream out in rejection of him, images of my servant flashed brightly in my mind. Internally, I scowled and pushed those images away.

_This is not right!_

Yåkov did not seem as terrible as I had imagined him to be, yet every time his body neared my own, I felt chilled and the need to push away – like two magnets that rejected one another. His lips were on mine then, gentle in their exploration, as they pressed to my own. With my limited knowledge and experience, I did my best to be neither frigid nor unresponsive or to encourage further advances. The kiss was gentle at first; his lips slowly applied more pressure and his mouth opened. Slowly and with the slightest pressure, his teeth nibbled my bottom lip and then his tongue explored the seam of my lips. His arms twisted around my waist and pulled my body closer with his – flush and aligned with one another.

Alarm spiked through my body and my heart accelerated, everything about the position and the kiss seemed wrong and off. I could not put my finger on why my body reacted this way towards him. Was it merely my inexperience or perhaps my previous assumptions regarding this man that stilled awoke my defenses? I knew that at some point, I would have to move past this – past these feelings and work towards a better relationship with him. With great care, I broke the kiss and took a step backwards. I looked down at my feet and felt the blood tint my cheeks; "I had a nice time with you this afternoon."

He laughed, a rich, deep laugh and his fingers captured my chin and tilted my face upwards towards his own. "As did I, wife. However, the hour is late and I should return to my chambers. The Jarls meet this evening and it is important that I am prepared." Quickly, he kissed my cheek, "However, there is always tomorrow."

With those parting words, he exited the chamber and left me to my confusion and frustration. My thoughts swirled and danced together as I fleetingly imagined Jarpr's lips pressed to my own, his strong hands encircled about my waist pressing me closer to his body, my fingers tangled under his hood. _Argh! _With an angry howl, shook my head violently to push those thoughts away. I turned on my heel and walked out to the balcony and leaned over the edge. I could see the edge of the darkening forest to the rear of the castle, and part of the village that lay beyond the palace walls. The market was quiet, as usual this time of early evening. People would meander slowly towards their homes, greeting one another as they passed. I wondered if they would return home to a family - a husband, wife, perhaps even children? In my mind, I imagined the soft pitter patter of little feet striking the floor as children chased one another, of a young mother stirring soup or setting a table for dinner for her husband as the young children ran around her and giggled as they passed. The young mother would sigh with mild frustration, but still laugh at the children's play in spite of herself. I tried to imagine a child of my own, chubby cheeks and fat hands that reached for me. My eyes slid closed as I imagined the child's beautiful round face, full from baby fat and long thick eyelashes that would frame equally beautiful eyes. In my mind, the child's eyes blinked open to reveal a strange amber color and I gasped and stumbled backwards from the shock.

_Stop obsessing over him!_

"I need to clear my head," I muttered to myself and turned to walk back to my chamber. The night would be cool, as the summer was coming to a close and autumn drew near, so I grabbed a cloak and wrapped it about my shoulders. The thick red fabric hung to about my calves, the fur lining felt soft against my skin and warmed my arms. The hood fell between my shoulder blades in a fountain of dark fabric and fur mingled together. Pulling the cloak around my form, I walked from my bedchamber, through the main chamber, and exited the large door to the hall.

"Highness," With a shriek I turned to see Leif waiting for me at the door. My hands flew to my chest, my heart thrummed loudly in my ears, as I calmed myself from the initial scare. "I apologize, I did not mean to frighten you. His Highness wanted me to remain guard outside your chambers this evening. Are you going somewhere?"

I nodded, "Yes, I was going to go for a walk."

Leif arched an eyebrow, his expressive gray eyes alight with amusement, "Will there be no lesson this evening?" Ah, now I understood why he seemed amused. Inside he must be laughing at me, at the comical images of my training the previous evening, my small body that struggled to lift the bat over and over again.

I laughed, "No, not this evening. I believe it best to put at least one night between the sessions," abruptly I added, "to rest my body, that is." I did not want him to think I was unable to complete the training he had agreed to share with me.

He nodded, "That is wise, however to properly prevent soreness between the sessions, I do recommend some sort of training – whether that be in the maze or something with your maidens."

In reaction, my shoulders rolled forward and back as I noticed the tightness throughout my upper body, no doubt from the weight of the bat. "Yes, I will need to train with them when they return."

"Do you wish me to walk with you, Highness?" Leif's offer to walk with me was a welcome one, his company always pleasant. I considered for a moment where I would like to venture to – the forest, the maze, or merely along the courtyard and how appropriate a companion would be. My preference was always the forest, I could loose myself to thought in the quiet abode the trees offered me; the maze occupied my mind as I sought new paths; and the courtyard would serve for good conversation and mindless walking.

"Yes," I began but was abruptly cut off.

"I will take Her Majesty. You have been commanded to guard her quarters, and are unable to leave your post _guard._" The words sounded as if they had been hissed and I turned to see Jarpr within arms reach. My brow furrowed, I thought he got along with Leif? Why the hostility?

He turned to me then, and bowed at his waist, his dark eyes watching me as he fluidly bent and straightened his body. "Your Highness," then he offered his elbow for me to take. My confused gaze turned from him to Leif. The guard's stance was rigid and visibly angry at the rebuke from my servant, his eyes narrowed and brows drawn downwards.

I peered at the two men; the tension hung thickly in the air between us, and considered whom _I _preferred to walk with. While Leif would provide pleasant company, I did need to speak with Jarpr, so with a sigh I took his elbow and allowed him to lead me down the hall. We walked through the archway that lead to the rear courtyard in silence, we passed the awnings and flowers and small trees as the sun's final rays settled behind the mountain and twilight began its short reign over the valley. My eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and I almost tripped when Jarpr sharply turned us to exit the courtyard. With steady arms, he righted my stance as we continued down the pathway and into the tree line of the forest.

We continued in silence until the trees hid the palace and I could hear the stream nearby. At that time, Jarpr released my arm and moved further away from me; his pace slowed but he continued forward. Unease settled in my belly as I realized I was alone in the forest, without a weapon, and with an admitted spy. I swallowed thickly as I looked for a potential escape routes as needed. As I surveyed the area, I failed to notice that Jarpr had stopped walking and was observing me. "Do not worry, Highness, I did not bring you out here to attack you." I focused on his relaxed stance; his body leaned against the trunk of a tree a few yards from me, his arms crossed loosely across his chest.

I waived my arm towards him, "Then please, explain."

He wore his usual garb, and I wondered if it was a uniform of sorts for him. His hood was in place, and although I could make out his face and dark eyes, I was unable to gather any new details of his appearance.

"Of course, Highness," his voice sounded mocking and a smirk adorned his face. "I wanted to finish our earlier conversation," he explained, "and I wondered if you really did have an enjoyable time with your husband. How did you put it? Ah, yes – a nice afternoon. Did you enjoy his company?"

I sighed and realized we had left many questions unanswered in his haste to depart from my chamber. _Better to answer the easier questions first._ "Yes, Jarpr, I really did have an enjoyable afternoon with my husband. And yes, I believe it best that we finish our earlier conversation. I even have new questions for you."

"Very well. However, I believe it was my turn to ask a question."

"No, you just asked a question and I answered it therefore it is _my _turn to ask a question."

He appeared to consider my reply before signaling his approval with a curt nod of his head and waive of his hand. I chewed my lip in consideration – which question to ask first? Should I ask why he did not pass along any of Yåkov's information to me? Or why he appeared so angry with Leif, who had been such a good friend to me? Perhaps why he was selected to be the spy in our kingdom? What King Vanir was planning to do with the information? And how long would Jarpr remain in our kingdom? So many questions, how would I pick the first one to ask?

"Why did you not give me Yåkov's messages?" While this one was the least important, it bothered me. The message Jarpr was supposed to have passed along was an easy one and I could not fathom why he would withhold the information. The situation made no sense whatsoever; there was neither gain nor loss involved by failing to relay the details of my sisters' travels to me.

"I received no message, Highness," his answer was curt and direct and yet something felt off.

"But," I began to object but he held up his hand, palm forward to silence me.

"No, I received no message. I would have no reason to with hold any messages from you; nothing to gain. Why would I lie to you about something so simple? The better question is, who would benefit from such a simple lie? Besides, you have asked your question, now it's my turn." He straightened slightly against the tree then continued, "Are all your handmaidens trained in combat?"

I froze. This was a very dangerous question and revealed far too much information that could compromise the security of the palace. His questioned quickly overshadowed his own question as to who would benefit from a lie and I committed it to memory for later consideration. Should I lie to him about my sisters? Would he know if I lied to him? I wanted to be truthful, yet something held me back, a nagging in my mind that buzzed about like an insect.

_Jane is not trained. _

That was true, while Jane had been on the mend we had been unable to really train her in regards to combat. I shook my head from side to side, "No."

He frowned.

"My turn," I said quickly, hoping to change the focus of the conversation. "Why were you sent to my kingdom instead of someone else?"

His eyebrow arched and he cocked his head to the side, "That, Your Highness, is a very good question, assuming that I was _sent_ here. Suffice it to say, when I was arrived here as a servant, I had volunteered."

That was shocking. Why would he come if he were not sent? Volunteered? I lowered my eyes to the ground to hide my shock. Surely this mission was one that could easily end in death, why would anyone volunteer for such an assignment? Was it an assignment? However, before I could think any further on the matter, Jarpr suddenly stood less than a foot away from me, easily within arms reach. I gasped from the suddenness and attempted to step away from him, but his arm shot out from the side and held me in place.

"My turn," he whispered. His face drew closer to my own and I was able to drink him in. He was truly beautiful, almost other worldly. His face was pale, but smooth and flawless; his brownish eyebrows were thicker, but his eyes were as dark as a starless sky. His touch chilled me through my cloak, yet still burned and hummed my insides; and his breath that washed over me when he spoke, smelled wonderful. In a word, he was hypnotic. "Why did you lie to me about your husband?"

My heart beat wildly in my chest as I recalled his questions and my answers regarding Yåkov. What lie did I tell? I had shared with him that I was trying to build an alliance, win Yåkov to my side; I had stated that the afternoon was agreeable. I could not find a lie that I had told him and confusion washed through my body.

"What lie?" I asked.

His brows furrowed and his fingers twitched against my skin, "The one where you said you enjoyed your time with him this afternoon."

I shook my head – truly, I had enjoyed Yåkov's company this afternoon. The only moment I had been uncomfortable was when he had kissed me.

_Oh_.

_Is that what he is asking about?_

_How could he even know anyways?_

"The afternoon was fine, Jarpr. We played a game and talked, nothing else. It was a pleasant afternoon," That was mostly true and surely he would not catch the omission in my statement.

His face inched closer to mine, until our noses practically touched and softly he stated, "Why are you still lying? What happened that upset you?"

My eyes widened and I realized he had indeed caught my omission. My throat felt dry and my tongue thick as I debated how much information to share with him. Defeated, I answered, "He kissed me. It made me, uncomfortable."

He took several long strides back until he returned to the tree, his twitched at his sides and in frustration he pulled the fingers into tight fists. "Why Jarpr? Why does this bother you?" The question fell from my lips before I could pull it back. This was not an important question, not one I should waste a turn on, yet I was unable to stop myself from asking.

Boldly, I took a few steps toward him. He groaned in frustration, "Dammit, it makes no difference. It should not bother me and yet it does. I do not understand." His hand punched at the tree to his side and several splinters flew through the air from the impact.

_Just how strong is he?_

I flinched at the impact and halted my progression towards him. His returned my gaze and walked towards me as well. When we were within only a few feet of one another he spoke again. "My turn," he stated and then continued, "do you love your husband?"

The hum between our bodies was like a current the rolled between the distances between us, tugged us closer together, and distracted me endlessly. Jarpr's nearness to me, the smell of him, the hypnotic nature of his eyes all wore down my defenses, as I murmured my answer, "No."

Without a reply, Jarpr returned to the tree and leaned against it again. He seemed deep in thought and I grabbed at my chance to ask another question.

"I do not understand why you are here if you were not sent here."

He chuckled darkly and shook his head. "Ah, Highness. I came here to kill you." In a fluid movement he pushed away from the tree and began another approach towards me. His movements were like that of a predator, calculated and intentional. The shock rolled through my body, and I felt myself move backwards in time with his forward progression.

Jarpr had already proven on multiple occasions he could easily overpower me. Yet, he had also restrained himself from harming me, even attempted to save me from the guards when I wanted to attack them in the longhouses. "But," I stammered, "You have not killed me. You have not even harmed me, even though you have had opportunities."

He took another step forward, "Yes, I know. Obviously, you did not harm your father, so I have no desire to kill you. But that was why I came here, why I volunteered."

Confusion and hurt washed through me as the realization that he had not only volunteered to come spy on me, but he had volunteered to _kill me_. "Why?" The fabric of my cloak met with a tree as I moved backwards and Jarpr took several large strides to capture me between his body and the thick trunk of the tree. My face tilted upwards to gaze into his downward tilted face as he explained.

"Because, Highness, such an act is an affront to the alliance between our lands. As a member of King Vanir's guard, I felt very strongly about the offense. We considered your father to be a fair and just ruler, someone whose death was worthy of being avenged – even if it was against his own daughter. But we were _wrong_, Majesty. You did not plot your father's death, did not murder him. As I have observed you, I can see the depth of your loyalty for the people. You have no reason to fear me. The alliance between Tyr and Dagez extends to you as well, and as a servant of Tyr, a member of the guard – I extend my loyalty and service to you, and if I may be so bold – friendship as well." He stepped back then and bowed to me, however this time, his eyes fully lowered to the ground instead of keeping me in his sights. Was this his display of submission to me?

I recalled his gentle nature, the manner in which he comforted me when I was unable to breathe, when I had nightmares – and the overwhelming comfort I generally felt in his prescience.

Friendship.

I was too drawn to this strange man to consider him an enemy; was obligated by duty to see him no more than a servant, but the lines could be blurred to consider him a friend.

_He was sent here to kill you. Volunteered even to murder _you.

My mind reminded me of all the reasons I should _not_ trust this admitted traitor, but I considered his explanations and could understand the perspective his King had held. Yet, Jarpr had been fair – sought the truth before acting, and had even protected me during his investigation. The war in my mind still raged, but my instincts assured me he could be trusted.

With a deep breath I nodded, "Yes, I would like that Jarpr."

A brilliant smile lit up his face and I found myself smiling in return. He offered his arm again, "We should return to the palace grounds."

I nodded and allowed him to lead me from the forest. That was how Jarpr, an admitted spy and potential assassin, became my friend.

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**A/N:** A severe case of writers block later - here is this chapter! I believe I wrote three different versions of this chapter before this one finally emerged. Since we have a lot of ground to cover, I felt it was important that Izabel and Jarpr complete their conversation that had started in the previous chapter. Was anyone surprised to find out that he not only volunteered to come spy on her but was also sent to possibly kill her as well? If you read my teaser for JPOV over at the Twilighted forums (head on over to forum and look under Shameless Plugs) you will even know that Jarpr wanted to kill Izabel.

What did you think of her conversation with Yåkov? Do you hate him, love him - or something else altogether? What's up with the aggression towards Leif? While I hope I answered a lot of questions in this chapter, it should have hopefully left you with some new ones. Let me know what you think and if you caught anything in the chapter. Did anything conflict? What questions do you have? We still have a lot of ground to cover, hang on tight!

Reviews are better than walks in the forest with Jarpr. :)


	14. Chapter 13: An Afternoon Picnic

**Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters belong to SM, they rest are all mine. :)**

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That night Jarpr escorted me back to my room, however the return trip was considerably slower and less hurried than the almost hasty dash to the woodland. We ambled through the trees and paused at the forest edge to admire the night sky that had overwhelmed dusk. The stars twinkled brightly above us in stark contrast to the moonless night sky. Jarpr pointed out constellations in the stars I had never noticed before and I marveled at his knowledge that surpassed my expectations.

His body stood close to my own and I inhaled his aroma deeply, the sweet, heady fragrance of him tickled my senses and seemed to sweetly blur the edges of my thoughts. From the corner of my eye, I thought the arm at his side twitched, as if he intended to touch me, but then caught himself and changed his mind. His other hand fluidly pointed out the various stars and stories behind the constellations. There were stories of Aquila, the mortal who climbed upon the back of an eagle and served the gods pitchers of water, Draco the dragon who loyally protected the gods' home, and Leo the Lion whose skin was said to be impenetrable – no sword, arrow, of spear could pierce it. As Jarpr shared the story, an errant thought flitted through my mind and I could not help but speculate if the lion's skin was cold. But it was the story of Andromeda that captured my attention. Andromeda's mother, Cassieopia, had boasted to be the most beautiful creation in the entire world, which angered Odin who had created beautiful sea nymphs. I nodded as I recalled the sailors embellished tales of the hauntingly beautiful creatures, and their songs that beckoned many to their deaths. In a jealous rage, Odin created a vicious sea monster, that would be only be appeased by the sacrifice of Cassieopia's daughter, Andromeda. The girl was then chained to a large boulder in the sea and awaited the monster's attack.

The attack never came.

When the monster surfaced, the god Baldr happened by and noticed the maiden and the monster. The brave, young god then rescued the girl and claimed her as his wife.

I did not like this story.

My mind conjured images of a beautiful young girl, whose vain mother had willingly scarified her to appease the angered god. Thick chains wrapped around her slender frame and secured her to the jutting rock that eclipsed the sea. Frothy waves lapped at the girls' sodden feet, the hem of a pretty dress hung heavy and limp against her limbs, and the mist from the ocean clung to her beautiful, thick, colorless hair. Large drops of condensation rolled from her scalp, down her forehead, and into her eyes; the salt of the sea mingled and danced with the salt of her silent tears. In my mind, she had accepted her fate, and true Viking that she was – met her death with honor and bravery; she did not allow herself to weep or wail into the heavy ocean air, only wait for her end.

And then, it appeared. The water broke around thick orange scales as the creature neared the surface; its leather like skin blended into the color of the ocean and as the girl observed – it seemed near impossible to know where the water ended and the creature began. The great beast would roar its arrival and reveal rows of razor sharp teeth housed inside its oversized head. Beady eyes would stare out at her, capture her in their sights, and then narrow. The creature's body fully broke the water then, and it was massive. Never before had Andromeda seen such a creature in size or color; from head to tail the monster was larger than any ship she had ever witnessed.

She trembled in fear.

Yet the girl reminded herself – chanted the words in her head – that she _would_ meet her death with her head held high. Chin jutted out in defiance to the monster and the god who called for her life, she inhaled deeply – tasting the salt from the water and prepared to die.

Yet death never came. The movement was sudden and she gasped in surprise.

A man – no it could not be a mere man, but must be a god, had lifted her from the rock and flew frighteningly fast past the ocean, beyond the woods that littered the lands of her home, and into the sky. On and on they climbed until they reached the gods' home. In my mind – Andromeda, whose face had been blank, hair had been without color, and just a blur in my musings, suddenly transformed into me. It was I who sat with the god – bewildered, confused, and frightened, and heard him lay claim to me. And the young god, previously a blur of motion and speed, cleared and it was Yåkov's face that grinned up at me.

I shook my head violently to scatter the images.

"What if," I began and hesitated, "Andromeda did not _want_ to be claimed by Baldr?"

Jarpr seemed to consider this before he answered, "It was fate," and then gestured towards the sky, "written in the stars."

I concentrated in search of how best to explain my musings, "But," I began again, "she had resigned herself to the sacrifice, her death was an honorable one. Baldr, stole that honor from her. He _stole_ her choices from her with his own selfish actions."

It took him a moment to understand and another to consider his reply, "So by saving her from a possibly horrendous death at the hands of that creature, he stole honor from her? This is what has you so upset?

I felt my face scrunch together, as if I had smelt something offensive, as I attempted again to explain the feelings that swirled inside me. Images of Jarpr and Yåkov still flashed in my mind as I attempted to convince myself that my reaction to the story was not about them. "What upsets me," I began again, "is that her _choices_ were stolen from her. He never asked her if she needed saving, he never asked her to be his wife. Instead, he _claimed_ her." Again, my head filled with the rescue from the rock and the creature and again, it was Yåkov that flew towards at an inhuman speed, wrapped me in his arms, and carried me from the honorable fate I had accepted, to another I had never been given the chance to accept or deny. "He was a god," I whispered, my voice sounded broken even to my own ears, "and he abused that power."

Stories of gods who had taken notice of humans and claimed them, having children together even, were commonplace. Young girls would sigh and swoon over these stories, the mere idea of such a powerful being infatuated with them apparently worth of their daydreams. As a girl, I had scowled at these stories – the mere idea of someone laying claim to me offensive. Perhaps I felt so strongly because of the arranged marriage I had almost always known about, or perhaps it was because of how I had envisioned that person to be. Thoughtfully, I considered what I thought I knew about Yåkov then and what I actually knew now. The contrast between fact and fiction was stark and I bowed my head ashamed at my unsupported, wrathful judgment of the man.

Yet, gods should _know _better, they should understand the differences between human and immortals. There were notable differences between the two - one a mortal, the other an immortal in all their perfection; mortals whose bodies were frail – easily breakable, who succumbed to all sorts of deaths, who were unable to resist a god, even if they wanted to. Or at least, that was how the stories were told. It would take a truly special human to draw and retain the attention of an immortal, not that a human held any hope of binding such perfection to themselves with even a fraction of the allure the god itself held. I shared these thoughts with Jarpr who seemed put off with the explanation, "So, you do not believe mortals are truly worthy of the attention or love from the gods?"

My hands tugged at the hair that fell past my shoulders, "I'm saying that just because an immortal - such as Baldr, _can_ claim a human woman as his wife, does not mean that he should. There are insurmountable differences between the two, and as such the relationship is an impossible task. It cannot end well. The only choice involved in the relationship rests solely with Baldr who _claimed_ Andromeda. She had no say whatsoever, and I do not care that love grew between them later."

Eyes narrowed as he peered down at me, "That did not answer the questions. I understand you are obviously upset at the lack of apparent choice in the matter. What I do not understand is your perspective on the relationship between the two? Can a god not fall in love with a mortal? Can their existence not be altered by the very real occurrence of love, even if it is with a mortal?" This question seemed very important to him, and I found myself squirming beneath his gaze.

Haltingly, I answered, "I suppose it could happen," I acquiesced, "but what hold the god to a mere human?"

Jarpr's face softened as he gazed down at me, "Love, Highness. Have you never felt the all consuming hold of love?" His voice held a slight hint of wonder and my blood boiled beneath my skin. _He does have someone._ The realization that the guard next to me had someone at home, someone who loved him, and awaited his return was almost overpowering; the jealousy the burned through my veins, scorched my muscles, and squeezed my heart in an iron grip caused me to stumble slightly.

_Keep your composure._

Not trusting my voice I answered simply, "No."

He seem perplexed and shifted backwards, slightly further away from me. "I see," he murmured. Then just as quickly, his composure returned, "As I said, it's just a story."

As the night air shifted from slightly cool, to chilly, Jarpr led me back to my chambers. Leif was still there, and it appeared the two men regarded one another with ill concealed frustration towards the other. I smiled towards the guard as Jarpr, who once we entered the archway to the hall had added some distance between us and now stood off to my side. "Good eve, Leif," with a slight tilt of my head I acknowledged him.

He bowed at the waist and returned the acknowledgment, "Your Highness," his voice sounded stiff and gruff – perhaps even angry and I wondered again what had occurred between them.

Outside the door, Jarpr paused, as if to consider something. He also inclined his head towards Leif, however when the guard begrudgingly acknowledged him Jarpr took the opportunity to dismiss him, "You may leave, and I will guard Her Highness in your stead."

Leif's jaw visibly clenched and released at the obvious rebuke, "His Highness," he began to explain.

"Has requested a guard for Her Highness. I am already assigned as her house karl and will ensure her safety. Good night." Leif's eyes seemed to measure up Jarpr's body as if to compare the servant's abilities to protect me against his own ability. While Leif was slightly taller than Jarpr, and perhaps a bit burlier, Jarpr was tall and lean, his muscular build only hinted at beneath his dark leather garb. With a shiver I recalled the times Jarpr had bested me; his calm demeanor and quiet personality belied the strength, speed, and skill of the warrior I had come to know. Between the two men, one could easily – and wrongly – assume that Leif was the better warrior, better protector, however I could not say with any certainty that Leif could best Jarpr. The entire situation was both awkward and curious and I felt the sudden need to intervene between the two men.

As if sensing my unease, Jarpr guided me quickly through the doors to the chamber and shut the door to a visibly angry Leif. Thoughtfully, I captured my bottom lip and considered the situation; I would certainly need to talk with him at a later time, perhaps at my next training session. Gracefully, Jarpr turned back towards me and walked me through the seating room and into my bedchamber. "Highness, perhaps you would like another massage? I could tell you more stories from my land if you like," he paused. "It may help you relax, and get back to a more normal sleeping schedule."

Ah, yes. My sleep had been slightly erratic as of late – I had been staying up throughout the night with visits to the forest, late night training sessions, and then sleeping into the afternoon. I murmured my agreement and moved towards the bed.

Jarpr encouraged me to slip beneath the covers after I had disrobed and he would rejoin me soon. With a soft thud, I heard the door behind him close and I was left alone in the room. As I withdrew the warm cloak from my shoulders, I noticed the nip and bite of the night air that wafted in through my bedroom window, I turned towards the hearth and realized the fire had not been fed. With a shiver, I quickly unlaced the bodice of my gown and pulled the garment up and over my body. I laid the dress into the drawer and pulled my woolen undergarments off and placed them in the floor of the dresser; then quickly crossed the room and slid beneath the covers. A thrill of excitement passed through my limbs, as I lay naked on my stomach beneath the cool covers and awaited Jarpr's return.

"Jarpr," I called; my voice sounded breathy and strange to my ears. He re-entered the room and turned towards the hearth.

"The room feels a little cold, I start the fire and then attend to you," he explained as he walked towards the cold hollow. I allowed my eyes to slide close as I listened to the sounds of him lifting and placing the large logs into the hearth, then the slight crackle as the fire began. The air in the room did not warm immediately, but as the fire grew I could feel the heat begin to radiate towards me.

Then Jarpr was beside me on the bed, pulling the covers down from my back and tucking them firmly around my hips. His cool, hard fingers met my slightly warmed skin and a shock ran through my body at the contact; an involuntary gasp of surprise or pleasure escaped my lips. As his fingers dug gently into my skin, the tension began to melt away from my bones and I could feel my entire body relax into the bed beneath me, and the sleep that had escaped me the previous nights took hold.

I could hear Jarpr's voice as he spoke to me, but I drifted away to the realm of dreams and heard no more.

A routine of sort began and held for about the next two weeks until my sisters returned. Each morn, Jarpr would greet me as I awoke with breakfast and a drawn bath. After I had eaten and bathed, he would escort me to the wall to bring food to the villagers in need. It was during these walks he would share with me tales and stories from Tyr. His stories were always fantastic and involved gods and monsters that both protected and meddled in the fate of humanity. It was always interesting to hear these strange tales that varied so much from those in my own land.

Every afternoon Yåkov visited my chamber and we played Nine Men's Morris. Sometimes we played in silence and enjoyed the company, other times he would share about his family, his childhood, and himself. I discovered he had only been twelve when his mother passed. Heartbroken, his father had initially ignored his young son while he grieved, but this had passed and soon the father and son had formed an unshakable relationship. Yåkov shared that he had considered his father to be his closest and dearest friend, and it had hurt him terribly when he too had succumbed to death. When I had inquired what had occurred, Yåkov grew quiet and distant and I had directed the conversation to more pleasant topics.

I was also shocked to find Yåkov intimidated by the responsibilities and burden of ruling; he worried constantly that he did not make the best decisions for his people or that perhaps there was something more or better that he could do. He confided worries that the Jarls perceived him as a weak leader and the problems that could arise from these misconceptions. It was during these discussions that I attempted to comfort and assure him. Slowly, we were building a friendship that could possibly serve as the foundation to a more romantic relationship. As the days melted into one another, I found myself becoming less opposed to him; I flinched less when he touched me, the unease in my stomach lessened during his kisses.

Yet, all the while, somewhere in my mind, a voice warned me to be careful.

Two nights had passed since I had last seen Leif and I ventured to the training courtyard to for another lesson, however he never arrived. Although I was slightly discouraged, I channeled the sting of rejection into practice with bat. Over and over I lifted the bat and struck the rope bound pillar, I heaved the bat with all my strength until my chest was heaving and the muscles between my shoulders screamed in protest. Then, recalling the lesson of the training dropped the bat and broke into a sprint across the court to the trees that lay just beyond the courtyard. I breathed shallow, gasping breaths and the air burned my throat and lungs as I pushed my legs to carry my further despite the exhaustion I already felt. When I reached the trees, I pulled my arms above my head and attempted to pull myself up and into the tree. Yet, my muscles felt weak and I was unable to even retain the already unsteady hold on the limb. As my grasp slipped, I tumbled to the ground.

Dried leaves scattered on the ground and dying grass broke my slight fall. With a groan, I rolled to my back and peered into the night sky. Obviously, it would take many more training sessions before I could successfully lift and strike the bat, as well as run, climb, or fight.

My lungs still burned and I worked to even my breathing and slow the blood flow that thundered in my ears. The night was quiet, the sky beautiful, and I found myself searching the stars for the constellations that Jarpr had previously showed me. A small frown tugged at the corners of my lips as I thought of my servant – a guard in his kingdom, and a spy in my own. As we spent more time together, the offense seemed inconsequential, although I knew should he be discovered it would be far from a minor offense. When Yåkov kissed me at the end of each afternoon, it was still Jarpr's face that flickered behind my closed lids. Yet, I did find myself softening to the man I was discovering beneath the detached exterior he presented to so many people. Again, I found myself longing for my sister's return home, so I might discuss these feelings with Nada and perhaps even send my own _spy _to observe Jarpr's movements when he was away from my chambers.

It was no surprise when I noticed Jarpr a few yards away watching me lay in the grass. I wanted to rise and walk back to my chambers, but my limbs felt like jelly and I worried about falling down if I tried to stand. Sensing my unwillingness to move, Jarpr approached and then lied on the ground next to me. We talked for a while – or rather he would ask about my childhood and my father and I answered. Eventually, when I could no longer contain the yawns, Jarpr pulled me to my feet and escorted me to my chambers. The time passed quickly when I was with him, and I found myself growing closer and trusting Jarpr more with each day and night I spent with him. While during the day he was played the part of a servant, at night he would attend to my sore muscles and whisper stories from his kingdom to me. This had become our ritual it seemed, to spend our mornings and evenings together. He would bring me lunch and then depart until the sun had set and the moon ruled the night sky.

The leaves and grass clung to my skin, and the material of my wrapped training garb stuck tightly to my skin. The dried sweat from my practice with the bat and then followed by a run to the forest had left me a mess and I felt dirty and grimy from the experience. While I gathered my nightgown, Jarpr poured the bath from the oversized pot of steaming water. He departed the room to give me privacy as I bathed, and I allowed the hot water to wash away the dirt and tend my sore muscles. The relaxation slowly seeped through each muscle and I found myself beginning to drift towards sleep encased in the warm, lapping waters. I jerked myself awake and hurriedly scrubbed my skin and hair clean, and then exited the tub. I pulled my nightgown on and climbed beneath the sheets to await Jarpr's return, and when I heard the soft footfalls of his boots, I allowed my eyes to slide close. Before his hands even touched my skin through the thin fabric of the gown, sleep had taken me.

The day after Leif missed our session, I went in search for him. Jarpr was conveniently away, and Yåkov had been called to meet with the Jarls again, which left me with some free time. I walked the halls in search of Leif, and realized I did not know where to begin my search. My initial thought was the guards' longhouse, but I recalled Jarpr's warning to stay away. Only a few days prior, I would have ignored his warning and sought out Leif wherever I felt best, but my trust with Jarpr had grown and so I considered his warning. Clothed not in my Valkyrie attire, but in a long pale green gown and my circlet would announce my status as the Queen; none would dare attack me. However, if I did go in search of Leif in the longhouses, I may expose him, the others might conclude he was gathering information and reporting back to me. Thoughtfully, I caught a loose strand of my mahogany hair and rolled it through my fingers.

As a servant approached and I waived her over, her feet shuffled along the floor in a flourished pace until she reached me. With a small curtsey, she acknowledged, "Your Highness."

I inclined my head and quietly spoke, "Do you know Leif? He is a more recent addition to the guard," I explained.

Confusion washed her delicate features and her brow furrowed together, "No, Highness. I do not know him, but there have been many new guards and it is hard to keep track of all the new faces about the palace." I dismissed the girl and continued my search. Sunlight streamed through the open windows of the halls as I walked through and warmed my skin. In my search, I stopped in the kitchen and asked the servants if they knew Leif, yet none had met him before. I visited the armory, and yet no one there could recall him either. With growing nervousness, I ventured towards the blacksmith who surely must have met Leif before, yet even he could not recall the guard. Frustrated, I turned towards the stables in hopes of locating the guard.

I did not locate Leif, or any who knew him, that afternoon, and soon returned to my chamber to meet the demands of my growling stomach. The weather was warm today, one of the last warm days we would have before autumn captured the air with a chill. It was mid afternoon and I had a bit of time remaining with the sunlight. As I entered the chamber, an idea formed in my mind.

A picnic.

Yes, it would nice to pack a small knapsack of food and a leather pouch of water and venture into the woods. A cool breeze wafted through the open balcony in the seating room and breezed through my dress, the edge rippled and danced with the air. I would certainly need to change, unless of course I wanted to ruin another garment. My stomach growled again, a reminder that I should hurry and I moved to my bedchamber for a change in attire.

My fingers quickly found my dark, leather Valkyrie garb and I considered the outfit. I would be alone, there was no risk anyone would see me in the forest, however, the material would stand out in the brightly lit landscape. I returned the garb to the hidden drawer in the bottom and instead elected to change into my bone colored wrapped tunic and leggings, the same I wore my training in the maze. The material was light, and airy and would provide easy movement for running and climbing. The pale green gown was quickly discarded to the dresser and I pulled on the tight wrappings and slid my feet into the flat-soled leather boots.

Exiting my bedchamber, I returned to the arms dresser and picked up my bow and filled my quiver with a few arrows. A picnic and a hunt would be nice; perhaps I could locate the meadow again and bask in the sun's warmth, the last offering of the season. Quickly, I filled the sack with some fruit and bread and filled my leather pouch with water from the kettle in the seating room. Then I secured the quiver and bow across my shoulders so that they hung to my back, slung my sack over the opposite shoulder and secured the pouch at my waist.

The combination of the bow, quiver, knapsack, and pouch was a bit awkward and I worried how I would hunt so overly encumbered. As I was rethinking my plan to picnic in the forest and hunt, I sensed rather than heard Jarpr's approach. I lifted my gaze to meet his obviously amused one. "Going somewhere, Highness?" he inquired, and a hint of laughter colored the smooth timber of his voice.

"Yes, I was going to the forest." I explained. His hand waived in the air and gestured to the ridiculous sight of the items I had secured to myself. My chin tucked to my chest as I bowed my head to hide the faint tint of my blush, "I thought I would have a picnic, before the weather turned cold," I explained.

"Do you require assistance?" then as if he thought better of the implication that I _needed_ his help, corrected with a question, "Or perhaps, would enjoy some company? I could carry your knapsack and pouch," he offered.

A smile spread across my face, wide and sincere as I considered the company. "Yes, that sounds nice." I waived my arm back towards my arms dresser, "I was planning to hunt while out, if you would like to join me, you are welcome to a bow."

He chuckled darkly, "No, thank you though." In a few steps, he was before me and easily lifted the sack from my shoulder and deftly loosened the pouch from my waist. "After you, Highness."

We walked in companionable silence from the palace to the forest. Once there, we continued down the path deeper into the trees. "Do you pursue game?" I questioned, curious as to his bemused reaction to the offer of a weapon.

"Yes, Highness," was his only response.

"Do you _like_ it?" perhaps he hunted from necessity and not from the enjoyment of the effort and skill involved? Perhaps, and I stifled a giggle at the thought – perhaps he lacked skill required for a hunt? Inwardly I balked at the suggestion Jarpr lacked skill in any activity he participated in.

Another chuckle, "Yes, Highness. I do enjoy to hunt," he paused in consideration, then as if he reconsidered, shrugged his shoulders as if to conclude his statement. I arched an eyebrow and turned my head to my side to observe him.

"If you enjoy it, why not join me in my chase this afternoon?" My curiosity was peaked and I could not help the question as it tumbled from my lips. Jarpr continued to walk forward, his gaze held steadfastly ahead as he continued his long strides into the wooded area. His jaw was tight, his shoulders squarely set, and it appeared as if he clenched and unclenched his hands into tightly balled fists. An idle thought skipped across my mind, and I wondered if his eyes would be black again or still their earlier warm, honeyed color. Clearly, he did not plan to answer me.

We neared a fork in the path, and I recalled to my right was the stream I typically began my hunts. However, to the left was a path, slightly overgrown from disuse, with which I was not familiar. Hazy memories clouded my mind as I attempted to recall the direction of the meadow; I recalled my trip with Nada and the journey that began at the stream, and then ventured to the south for better opportunities. My face tilted upwards as I searched the sky for the sun, the descent to West would have already begun and would guide my bearings. Eyes scanned the skyline in my search and I adjusted my body as I turned about. _Ah!_ I spied the sun and realized the south would be to my left.

"Where are we headed?" Jarpr asked, his back still towards me.

"To the south," I nodded my head in the direction to my left, "I found a beautiful meadow not long ago, and it would be the perfect place to picnic and enjoy the weather."

"Lead on," Jarpr instructed.

I moved to the overgrown path and stepped over larger stones. The forest was unusually quiet. No birds sang in the trees. No squirrels scurried about to and fro collecting food for the winter. It was if a blanket of silence had descended upon the wood, the only noise rose from the sound of crunching leaves as I my feet met the ground below. My eyes scanned the trees, logs, and shrubs for anything familiar to guide me to the beautiful meadow, not yet nothing stood out. That was the issue with the woods; the trees and greenery could all easily blend and bleed together. Travelers and hunters alike could easily loose their ways in our thick forests, the trees melting together to form seemingly impenetrable walls of dense bark and leaves.

Jarpr remained silent at my side and I recalled he had not answered my question. As if sensing I was to question him again, he spoke, "That is an unusual bow, Highness. May I inquire where you acquired it?"

Distracted, I answered, "Hmmm?"

He gestured towards the bow slung over my back, "The bow, it is most unusual. I do not believe I have seen its equal in Dagez. May I ask, where you acquired it?"

Ah, yes the bow. I could recall the specific day I had _acquired_ it. The bow itself was a mixture of materials, including wood, sinew, and leather, a very odd combination, but also a very efficient one. The bow was lighter than any other bow I had carried, weighing probably only ten pounds as opposed to the weight of a long bow. Arrows whizzed through the air with little effort and I could only guess it was the combination of the sinew and bone that made it so powerful. In my mind, I relived the scream and crash to the forest floor that day, and involuntarily flinched from the impact.

"Highness?" Jarpr's voice broke through my contemplation and brought me back to the moment.

"I sort of found it," I answered, and hoped the clipped explanation would suffice. Of course, I was hardly surprised when it was not.

"Please, explain," he encouraged, his golden eyes pleading.

_Still golden._

With a sigh, I continued to move forward in search for the meadow and began to share my story. "A few years ago, when I was still a girl, my maiden – Nada, and I were sent on a hunt. It was to last for three days," I paused and considered how much I should edit the story. Should I share that the point of the trip was to test our hunting and survival skills? I recalled the night by the guards' longhouses and realized, on some level – Jarpr was already aware of my training. "It was a test you see. We had a small head start before guards were sent in after us and to succeed we had to not only evade and if needed, stand against the guards without capture, but also survive on our own in the forest with only one weapon." I sighed again, and pushed forward against the shrubs that reached and arched over the path. As I passed underneath the cover of yawning branches and leaves, I discovered the meadow.

It was brilliant, the sun's rays poured into the open area, and the trees that hovered on the edges provided plenty of shade. With a nod of my head, I ambled towards the center of the meadow, when Jarpr's hand shot out and stilled me. "Wait," he whispered.

My head jerked towards him, "Why?"

He shook his head, "It is too exposed, let us picnic there," he pointed to an inviting area that rested on the edge of the meadow. It was bathed in the shade, but only a few steps away from the brilliant light. "It is less exposed, and you can still enjoy the nice weather."

"Exposed?"

Frustrated, he grunted, "Highness, I came here because your father's death was very suspect. Indulge me please."

I conceded and followed him along the edge towards the area he had indicated. Once there, I sat cross-legged and reached for my sack. My hands reached into the opening and withdrew the fruit and bread I had carried, then tore the bread in half and offered it with an apple to Jarpr. Bemused with hands raised, palms forward he declined with a shake of his head. "Please continue your story," he requested.

I indicated he should sit with me, and in a fluid, graceful movement, he sat near me, within arm's reach. Thoughtfully, I bit into the bread and chewed as I recalled the events. I opened the leather pouch and drank deeply from the water, wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my tunic – _very nice_ – and continued. "The first day went well, I had climbed high into a tree and slept there that night. I brought my bow with me to hunt and a bit of flint to create fire to cook my game. It was the second day that it happened." I paused as the screams echoed in my mind again and I shook myself to dissipate the memories. "There were screams, terrible screams that unnerved me. Later, I learned they came from Nada – she had learned that her mother had died in the night. At the time, I was not sure who had screamed or why, but they scared me so badly, that I lost my balance in the tree and fell very far to the ground."

_Whoosh._

I could almost feel the air whipping at my skin as I had fallen from the far-reaching branches to the green, grassy ground beneath me.

"I'm not sure what happened. It was quite the fall and apparently I was in and out of consciousness. I remember the pain – it was very intense and I thought I was dying. I had broken my arm and one of my ribs, and everything hurt. The guard who had been hunting me was there, but could not lift me. He was afraid he may hurt me worse if he moved me, so," I paused, as this was the difficult part. "So, he left me."

Jarpr's eyes widened – presumably from shock, "Alone?"

I nodded.

"He left the future queen alone, injured in the forest?"

Again, I nodded.

A growl seemed to echo from somewhere in the forest and I turned about in my seated position in search of it.

Very strange.

"That was, foolish," Jarpr bit out harshly. "But, how did you receive the bow?"

"Yes, well. This part is very hazy in my memories. Sometimes," I paused as I deliberated whether to share this very personal information. I shared this part with no one, not even Nada, and for some reason I felt entirely comfortable sharing it with Jarpr. I realized then, I would probably share anything with Jarpr – he only needed to ask. "Sometimes, I dream about this part, and I am unsure if it really happened or if, over the years, I merely imagined it. I believe, I was awake when the guard left, and I was terribly scared and of course in pain. I did not think I could bear it and I remember the feeling of not being able to breathe taking hold of me. My chest felt tight and I thought surely that I would die right then, alone in the forest. That's when it happened – it was the strangest and yet most comforting thing." I chewed on my lip and took a deep breath.

"I heard someone in the forest with me, almost above me from the trees and they were humming or singing to me. Their voice was beautiful and it soothed me almost right away. The next thing I remember, the guards had created a portable bed of sorts to carry me back to the palace and that's when the bow appeared." I shrugged as the memory began to slip and fade to the back of my mind. "The guards left it in my room and when I asked where it had come from, they were very puzzled. They just looked at me with this confusion written all over their faces and told me that it was _my_ bow, that it was laying next to me and they brought it back with them."

I chanced a glance at Jarpr's face then, it was awash with his own confusion and maybe even – wonder? "Jarpr, what is it?"

The words fell from his lips in quick succession, "It all makes sense now."

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**A/N: Can I just say that I get so giddy every time my email dings alerting me to someone else adding _Ginnungagap_ to their favorites. I appreciate every person adds _Ginnungagap_ to their favorites list and for each and every review. Thank you so much! I really appreciate all of your feedback and love your questions. :) I'm trying to make up for the sporadic updates over the past few months and really shower you with frequent updates to demonstrate my gratitude to you all. So again, THANK YOU!**

**So what did you think? Now that we've moved past the whole, "is he a spy, is he not a spy" and waffling over to hate him or like him, we will see Jarpr's and Izabel's relationship grow and develop into more of a friendship. Of course, we also have Yåkov who is making measured efforts to really win his wife over and develop a more traditional relationship as well. But please do not worry, I'm not really a love triangle person anyways. So just hang on! **

**Hopefully, in this chapter you see a few things being revisited and explained more in depth. Any guesses as to what those things were? I'll give you a hint - they were touched on in earlier chapters (much earlier chapters). Any guesses as to what happened to Nada's mom? Or why there seemed to be some tension between Leif and Jarpr? What stood out to you in this chapter? Did you take away any new questions or do you think you found some answers? Let me know!**

**On my end, there's a LOT going on in this story, and I'm doing my darnedest to be subtle, but give away some hints of what the future - or past - may hold. No new history tidbits in this chapter, but a lot of that is because we've covered circlets and Nine Men's Morris already. My husband had a good chuckle when I explained to him that Yåkov and Izabel were playing board games. ;-)**

**Reviews are better than picnics with Jarpr - I'll gladly take that company. ;-)**


	15. Chapter 14: Dreams May Come

**Disclaimer:** Any Twilight characters belong to SM. :)

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"What makes sense?" I inquired. Jarpr sat only a foot away from me and my hand longed to move of its own accord, reach out and touch his strange, cool skin. My body longed to feel the hum of the contact, the bursts of energy that would occur. Yet, I willed my limbs – hands, arms, and fingers to remain still. Around us, the forest remained quiet, the sun still leaked through a few stray branches and spilled forth into the center of the meadow. Although, the bright pool was lessening, the warm rays retreating, and I knew the sun would begin to set shortly. I sighed, an audible telltale sign of my frustration to his silence. How this man could so easily frustrate me in one moment, then set me alight in another, was a wonder to me. Never before had I ever been so entranced with any one person. As a child, playmates had come and gone as Jarls visited the palace and brought with them wives and children – some my own age, others younger, but mostly older than me. It was only Nada who remained my constant playmate; it was with her that an unbreakable friendship had formed. But even with Nada and the other children who had made appearances in my life – none had so thoroughly enraptured me, had awoken my curiosity as this man did. This strange man, with eldritch eyes that were just _other_ – none had ever had this effect on me.

Not even my own husband, who admittedly deserved to create at least a portion of the reaction, the fixation, the fascination, and want within me towards him. Yet, try as I might, my feelings were like a band that would only stretch so far before sharply yanking back and snapping almost painfully into place. Traitorous hands twitched towards Jarpr and quickly I pushed them against the ground to sit fully upright; I slid my hands behind my neck to pull and rub the muscles in momentary distraction.

I had all but given up that he would answer me when his smooth voice startled me from my reverie, "Why you love these woods so much," his hand seem to float effortlessly as he indicated the forest around us, "it's a bad memory, Highness, but you found comfort here. Perhaps," and he paused as he considered his next words. "Perhaps, you are seeking that comfort again. You do come here, _a lot_." He added almost briskly.

That did make some sense, but I hardly believed I was searching anything out in these woods. I always felt free in the dense cover the trees and greenery offered me, here no one could see me, I could deposit the worries I felt at the forest's edge and run through the paths and empty my entire mind.

A sigh escaped my lips and I realized I would have to either abandon my hunt today or get started. Internally, I felt torn. I wanted to quickly finish my picnic and either lay in the brilliant sunlight pooled in the meadow, or I wanted to begin the chase. However, I also enjoyed talking with Jarpr, the time passed effortlessly while I was with him and it was a guilty pleasure I indulged – probably too much – in. I responded to him with a slight, "hmmm," as I continued to nibble on the fruit I carried with me and then reached for my leather pouch again.

My throat was parched, thick and dry, and the water felt refreshing as I drank deeply. I allowed the cool liquid to flow freely into my mouth, down my throat, with care to not spill or waste any of the life giving nectar. I sighed as I pulled the pouch away from my lips and caught Jarpr eyeing me. Inwardly, I cringed and realized that perhaps he too was thirsty and I had yet to offer him any. Forcefully, I thrust the water pouch towards him in donation, my eyes downcast from the momentary embarrassment. "Are you thirsty, Jarpr? Would you like a drink?"

His smooth, dark chuckle fell from his lips and my eyes met his of their own accord. Dark, ocher eyes met my confused brown ones as he shook his head in refusal, "No thank you, Highness." It did not escape my observation that he failed to state that he was not thirsty nor wanted a drink, only that he had refused the offering. As if to distract me, his inclined his head towards the now empty knapsack that sat between us, "Are you finished?" I nodded. "Would you prefer to hunt or return to the palace?"

The sun would fade soon, and I wanted to relish my time here before returning. Hunting it would be. I stood and stretched my muscles; my arms raised above my head towards the sky as I lengthened my flesh, my toes curled into the tender ground and I felt renewed. "Hunt," I stated.

Awkwardly, I considered my options, Jarpr had neither a bow or any other weapon with which to hunt; he had made it clear – sort of – that he did not want to hunt _with me_, and I was unsure of whether to leave him at the tree or send him back to palace. Thoughtfully, my teeth captured and worried my bottom lip. Surely I did not want to possibly hurt his feelings with a dismissal, but I felt uncomfortable instructing him to await my return.

As if sensing my dubiousness, Jarpr stood and stepped closer to me, "Highness, I'll remain close by while you hunt," he bowed slightly and then began to gather up the knapsack and leather pouch. Suspicion raced through my veins, only what seemed like moments earlier he had insisted we picnic at the edge of the meadow for my own protection, and now he was allowing me to freely hunt. His nonchalant manner did not fool me and I realized he planned to follow from a distance.

I scowled.

I did _not_ need him to follow me about.

"Are you quite sure? You may be waiting for awhile," I explained.

His eyes were mocking, but still gentle – maybe even playful as he answered, "I can be quite patient, when need be."

I turned the words over in my mind and could not help but wonder if there was a hidden message engrained in his words. It was almost as if, he were trying to share something private, secret – but without revealing the secret itself. My mind traveled back to our last discussion in these woods and while it was very different from our discussion today, it somehow felt more open, freer than the almost clipped responses I had received from him.

A cool breeze lifted my hair about my shoulders and rustled the dying leaves at my feet into a tiny whirlwind as they danced and floated away. Time was slipping away, escaping into an invisible void and soon night descend. Wordlessly, I set about my hunt and walked slowly down the pathway leading away from the beautiful meadow. One last time, I peered over my shoulder to take in the beautiful pasture with the overgrown grass and wildflowers that kissed the summer farewell as they yellowed and fell into slumber, and the yawning branches the reached and arched over the edge creating a sway of leaves that danced to unheard music. A flicker of movement caught my attention, I turned more fully to seek out the distraction, but found nothing.

No animals.

No explanation of the movement.

No Jarpr – he had simply vanished.

I shrugged it off – accepting his odd speed with his strange eyes and cold, hard skin - and assumed he was already shadowing my movements from the cover of the trees, then continued my trek back to the main path. After walking through the dying long grass, and over a few stray branches, I reached the main path and paused. The wind meandered about me and I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply through my nose.

Smells of the forest filled my senses. Leaves scattered in the wind, blown to and fro through the dense forest as I took it all in. Earth and woodsy fragrances assaulted me first, swirled and danced in my mind. The Yule trees were the most fragrant, their evergreen needles created an almost tangy flavor, and the smell of the sun flowing through the shrubs and greenery also washed through me.

Muscles tensed and bunched as I continued to inhale deeply, awaiting a smell or sound that would direct my course. The bow swayed against my back as I shifted silently from foot to foot. Time passed slowly as I waited for direction, and I could feel the stiffness begin to invade my motionless muscles. Unnatural stillness surrounded me as I continued my meditation and somewhere, deeper in the wood, a branch snapped. Eyes shot open as I turned sharply towards the sound and padded silently through the path. Alert, my sight darted from side to side as I pressed forward in search of the source. With measured steps, I departed from the path and pushed through the overgrowth.

Silence.

Somewhere, further away a bird called out.

It was an eerie sound that contrasted starkly against the blanket of silence that covered the area and goose bumps blossomed along my arms under the wrappings of my tunic.

In the distance, I spied a deer. It stood alone, frozen and yet I was confident it could not notice me. Slowly, with deliberate care I stalked forward while my hands busied themselves with releasing the bow from my back and retrieving an arrow from the quiver that thudded gently against my shoulders with each step. As I neared a tree, I hid myself behind its thick trunk and leaned against the scratchy bark. Fingers deftly aligned the arrow in my bow and I raised it to eye level and pulled the bow taint, kissing my lips as I took aim.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Eyes open.

And _release._

The arrow flew through the air and I watched, fascination, as it sailed effortlessly towards the deer. Yet, as I inched forward to observe the arrow's flight, a twig snapped beneath my foot and the deer, suddenly alert, bounded away seconds before the arrow could make impact.

"Dammit!" I cursed under my breath.

A low chuckle sounded behind me and I spun round.

Jarpr sat a few feet up on a low hanging branch watching me with poorly hidden amusement. A smile obviously tugged at the corners of his lips and he fought against the upward tug at his mouth. "Highness, such language for a lady," he chastised.

I turned again, but the deer was gone.

The forest was still quiet and the warmth of the sun was slowly melting away. "I suppose we should head back," I stated and replaced the bow to my back. "I do not think I will find anything this late." Disappointment colored my voice.

With surprising ease, Jarpr sprang from the tree and landed soundlessly on the earth below him. He righted his posture and stood tall, his arm held out in offering. Another defeated sigh escaped my lips and walked slowly to join him, but refused his offered arm.

By the time we returned to my chamber, the sun had set and once again twilight ruled the cooling night. Upon entering the chamber I found a beautiful flower carefully placed next to my game of Nine Men's Morris. With a smile, my fingers encased the delicate stem and pulled the vibrant petals to my nose. The flower was brightly colored, oranges and yellows, the petals thick and soft with the brightest yellow in the center and a dark orange rimming the edges. Deeply, I inhaled its sweet scent.

Another growl sounded in the night, and when I turned to face Jarpr – he was gone.

Leif did eventually return to my chamber, only a few days prior to the return of my sisters. He had been called away by Yåkov to attend to the visiting Jarls and had only recently returned. Something in his explanation seemed off and I worried that he had intentionally avoided me due to Jarpr's rudeness. I tried to apologize for the behavior of my servant but Leif waived the incident off with a hearty laugh. We agreed to resume my training sessions the following evening.

All in all, life had fallen into a steady rhythm of routines with Jarpr, Leif, and Yåkov. My visits with Yåkov each afternoon had become more comfortable, and he informed me that he understood my desire to know him better before entering a more intimate relationship, and to prove the depth of his feelings for me; he had sent away the concubines. Later that night, I had considered the concubines who had shared my husband's bed, and carefully thought on the feelings I associated with these women. Should I be bothered that he had been intimate with them? Should I be bothered that, possibly up until very recently, he had continued to be intimate with them? However, try as I might, those possessive, angry feelings did not surface and begrudgingly, I admitted that I cared not whether he used their services or not. My mind envisioned limbs tangled with one another, sighs and moans of pleasure, hands that explored the other's body – and yet, it was only when Jarpr flashed to mind that I felt the hot sting of jealously.

And still I wrestled with these feelings.

Try as I might, the unexplainable draw continued to envelope my mind and consume my thoughts and dreams.

It was a bright afternoon; the shone had once again broken free of the night and bathed the Earth in its glorious rays. We had ventured to the meadow again and this time, Jarpr had allowed me to lie inside the pool of light, albeit still on the outer rim of the field. My skin soaked up the warmth from the sun as the wind danced over my skin and through my long hair. Lazily, I opened my eyes and rolled my head to the side to peer at Jarpr.

Ever clothed in his dark leather tunic, leggings, and hood he sat only a few feet from me, cloaked in the shadows of the trees. His body was still and he appeared to be deep in thought.

I rolled to my back and lifted my body onto my hands and knees. Slowly, I crawled the distance between us and then ever so gently, placed my hand upon his shoulder. It was as if something had been ignited in him, suddenly jarring him from a deep slumber, and he turned on me in an instant. His pale, cold hands shot out and with a sharp tug pulled me to his body. My skin hummed at the contact and in a blur of motion, he flipped me onto my back and hovered above me. Breathing became difficult as the blood rushed through my veins, roared in my ears, and sent a tingle throughout every limb, every muscle, and every nerve in my body.

"Jarpr," I whispered.

His eyes were coal black and hungry and for a moment a thrill shot through me straight between my legs. My lips clenched together in an attempt to stifle a moan, but I failed miserably. As my thighs struggled to rub together, but were blocked by his knee nestled between them, the moan slipped past my lips. His starving gaze focused on my mouth and without any warning, his lips descended upon mine. The current that flowed and ebbed from the contact was intense and Jarpr's probing lips and tongue swallowed another moan. "Open your mouth to me," he commanded, his voice guttural and needy.

I complied and his cool tongue swept past the open seam of my lips and despite the urgency his body conveyed, gently caressed my tongue. Embarrassingly, I moaned again. My back bowed below him, and pressed myself more fully to him; my hips bucked in their need for a release. His hands cupped my breasts through the tunic and I called his name in short pants, "Jarpr."

Achingly slow, his hips rolled forward to the apex between my thighs and I called out again. He broke the kiss, his lips moved to explore my chin and my neck; as his hips rocked into me again, he chuckled at my cry. Teeth scraped against my jugular as Jarpr growled against my throat. I hooked one leg around Jarpr's waist and pulled him closer still as his hips continued to rock into my overheated core.

Gods! How I wanted this man. My body burned under his chilled touch, it cried out for his kisses, and even when his teeth sliced into the skin at my neck, I still moaned and writhed beneath him.

I shot straight up in my bed; chest heaving as the dream slowly crept away from my consciousness. Too many nights, I had awoken from a dream of pleasure, Jarpr's lips pressed against my own, his skin pressed against mine, his hands pulling me to him – capturing me in his embrace and moaning my name with his beautiful voice; on top of me, devouring me, consuming me, and always at the end – killing me. It was as if I floated away from my body and could see the lifeless form on the ground, the leaves scattered about my head, Jarpr over me with his arms holding me to his body. His eyes always rose to the sky, mournful and remorseful, his beautiful mouth smeared scarlet from my blood, and his eyes bright and terrifying – blazing red. As if he sensed my nearness, his fierce eyes would focus on my disembodied spirit, and smirk his confident, lopsided grin. Whether it was from the shock or terror from the dream, I knew not, but each night I would awaken in my bed panting and clutching at my neck. Each night I awoke with sheets tangled about my body, gown and hair clinging to my skin, chest heaving, and an unnerving frustration that continued to build between my legs, and each night Jarpr would enter my bedchamber to soothe me, but his touch only further instigated my already raw nerves.

Matters were not helped when Jarpr would come to my aid. My fingers itched to pull him close to me, to boldly kiss him to see if the imaginings of my dreams were any where near as good as reality.

Yet I resisted.

_Remember, he has someone; _my mind would cruelly remind me.

And as the dreams continued, I began to feel slightly awkward with Jarpr. My awkwardness began to show through as I would flinch at his touch, shy away, or hurriedly dismiss him when he came to me at night.

When the brilliant light of the sun kissed the sky, he would return with a tray practically overflowing with breakfast breads, cheese, and fruit. In silence he would prepare a bath while I ate, then after walk with me in the maze or escort me to the wall. Each eve he would return and whisper stories to me until I fell asleep. But in the night, as the dreams continued, he thankfully kept his distance.

It was the twelfth night that I had dreamed of Jarpr and as usual, I awoke screaming. Yet, as I grasped my heaving chest and struggled to become fully aware of my surroundings, no doors banged open, no cold hands reached to soothe me – there was no velvet voice to hum me to sleep.

Only silence met my gasping cries.

He had not come.

Disappointment shot through my limbs, numbing them and weighing them down. They felt heavy and cold and a deep ache began in my chest and spilled over onto my cheeks. I was _crying_ because he had not flitted to my bedside, had not sought to comfort me. Angrily, I recalled his description of love – which it bound and held those entrapped in its lure captive. I scoffed bitterly as I realized I had _hoped _he cared for me as I realized, with shock – how I cared for him.

Yet, here I lied in my bed, sheets tangled, sweat clinging to my skin, heart thrumming wildly – and he was not with me. No arms encircled me and whispered quiet promises in the crown of my hair, no bright golden eyes sought to comfort me in their gaze.

No, I was here alone.

I growled and violently threw a pillow to the side; it fell over the edge of my bed and tumbled to the floor. The moonlight crawled in through the large, over sized window and I peered into the night sky, searched for Leo the Lion, Draco, or even Andromeda yet through my thick tears, could find a single one. It was that night that I cried myself to sleep, determined to close the damn of feelings that had burst open for a disloyal spy.

In my anger and hurt, I never noticed the dark figure seated on the far side of my bed watching me, although I should have at least sensed his nearness.

Thankfully, my sisters returned the following eve. They told me of their travels, and seeing the people throughout the villages. Yåkov had been truthful that they had requested the extra time to help the people prepare their homes for the oncoming winter, they had taken time with villagers and added more sod to the roofs of their homes, helped gather firewood, and even taken a few groups on hunting trips to gather meat to salt and save for the colder, harder months. Each woman was happy to be home, but it seemed Jane especially was glad to have returned.

When asked about her melancholy mood, she smiled timidly at me and explained she needed time to rest. I doubted she was entirely truthful with me, but I did not want to push her.

That night, before Jarpr visited my quarters, I pulled Nada to the open balcony. Our sisters sat in the Valkyrie chamber, huddled around the fire, chatting about the people they had met in their travels. Laughter rang out in the chambers and tickled my ears. They spoke of Sella's inept ability to lug the sod to and from the homes or even up to the roof, and whispered stories of how she seemed to inevitability fell down anytime she was handed a roll of sod. Each woman rolled with laughter as they shared stories of pretending to be the Queen's helpless maidens, afraid of traveling the road and the dangers it presented. Only two guards were sent as escorts for my sisters, but they guffawed as they recalled the shrieking fear of the larger guard when a snake crossed their paths. Tears leaked from their eyes as they held their sides as Peta stood and imitated the guard's shriek as he ran away. Even I found myself smiling and laughing as I listened, enraptured to their stories. It was very good to have them home.

"Yes, Izabel?" Nada whispered.

I pulled her close in a tight hug and whispered how glad I was to have her home. "I missed you my sister," I confessed. She grinned in return and acknowledged that she too missed me. "There is so much to tell – with Yåkov and that servant, Jarpr. Now is not the time to explain, but I need a favor from you."

"Of course Izabel! You are the Queen after all," she teased. Her eyes danced brightly as the mixture of firelight and moonlight bathed our faces in the dark of the night.

"I need you to follow him," and as the pain from the previous night threatened to resurface I cleared my throat, "find where he goes when he is not here. Ask one or two other girls to help you, but I want him followed any and every moment he is not here. Do you understand?"

Her face gave nothing away and she nodded curtly at me with understanding, "It will be done," she promised. "Shall I start tonight?"

I attempted to convey my apologies through my pleading eyes – she had just returned from a long journey, one that included manual labor, and must be weary and exhausted, "Yes. When he leaves tonight, I want someone – preferably you, to follow him. But we must act quickly, he will be here soon and I don't want to risk him overhearing our plans. Go, select a few other sisters and inform them as well."

She bowed to me and returned to the group. Her slim hand rested on the shoulders of Ava, Rubi, and Peta and motioned discreetly for them to follow her. Each woman rose and followed Nada to the Valkyrie chambers.

The plan was in place; I was determined to find out how Jarpr spent his free time. Did he sneak about the palace, lurking in corners and shadows to listen and spy on others? How did he go undetected? How did he gather information? One way or another, I would have answers to the many questions stored in my mind.

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**A/N:** I return to work tomorrow and probably won't be able to sit down and write again until next week. :( But I've enjoyed the past couple of days off getting to work on this story. :)

If you read the previous chapter the day it was posted, I recommend going back over it. I added a story and good discussion between Izabel and Jarpr regarding the story of Andromeda that really plays into Izabel's feelings in this chapter. So if you missed that discussion (when first published it was only a few paragraphs, but now it's a few pages long) go back and see it. Speaking of the stories he told, for those who are not big astronomy buffs, they are real stories that would have been circulating around this time period. However, they were all originally based on Greek gods and mythology (so Draco guarded Mt. Olympias) and it was Zeus not Odin who sent the sea monster.

Also, Jarpr's position in the Queen's chamber is that of a house karl (or housecarl depending on where you read about it). This means he keeps her chambers clean, prepares and serves her meals, travels with her, and is sworn to protect her. Commonly, house karls would sleep in the home with their masters, but seeing as there is no room for Jarpr, he has his own room amongst the other servants' chambers - which we will explore later in the story.

As we draw closer to the middle of the story, I am trying to drop more hints to foreshadow future events. Have you caught any? If so, what do you think they are?

A private teaser to anyone who can accurately guess what flower was left behind, who left it, and the meaning behind it. If you guess the first two, the third one is just a Google search away. I look forward to reading your guesses!

If you enjoyed this chapter, have theories, etc. please leave me a review - they are better than hot sex dreams with Jarpr. ;-)


	16. Chapter 15: The Unknown

**Disclaimer: Anything Twilight belongs to SM, the rest is all mine.**

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That night Jarpr did not come to my chamber, or the next morning. I awoke to the bustle of my sisters moving to and fro as they prepared a hearty breakfast of roasted meats, eggs, and cheese. I grinned across the table as we ate and each one shared stories from their travels. My eyes crossed over to Jane, who still seemed melancholy and I worried her own experience had not been as fulfilling.

After breakfast, my sisters busied themselves with cleaning the table and dishes. Sella balanced a stack of dishes and walked comically to the basin to rinse them. As a plate slipped from the top of the precarious stack, I snickered as she glared at me. Composing my face into a blank mask, I did my best to look completely innocent. As she scowled towards me I knew that I had not fooled her, she knew that I had laughed at her. I shook my head and I stifled another laugh, but noticed Jane shuffling towards the chambers and silently followed her.

She sat, hunched over, on top of her bed, arms wrapped around his midsection as she rocked back and forth. My heart ached for her, and I walked soundlessly to her side and sat next to her. "Jane?" I asked softly, my fingers brushed over her hair as she sat, staring unblinking into the fire before her. "Jane?"

Slightly started, she jerked her face towards me and acknowledgement filled her eyes. "What's the matter?" Gently, I continued to stroke her hair and back in soothing circles. Her eyes watered and her teeth captured her bottom lip in worry.

"We passed through my old village," she explained in a soft voice. "It was difficult to be there, to serve those people," she breathed in; an attempt to calm herself and continued, "No, not people. They are not people at all; they are _monsters_!" The heartfelt confession pulled at my heart as I realized the challenge presented to this young girl. No more words were spoken between us as she closed the distance between us and buried her head in my shoulder. My arms wrapped around her and I rocked her slightly and hummed softly in her ear.

The pain seemed to empty from her, as her tears dampened the front of my ivory colored dress, and I could feel their heat on my cooling skin. Time passed and Jane quieted until her cries were only disrupted hiccups. She sat and looked at me, eyes swollen and red from the bought of crying, skin blotchy, and nose red, and whispered, "thank you" so softly I was not entirely sure I had heard it.

I smiled in reply and the girl stood to hurry from the room, excusing herself to get cleaned up. As Jane exited, Nada entered the room – she looked exhausted with dark shadows under her eyes and the heavy shuffle of her normally so quiet feet. "Tired?" I teased as she nearly collapsed on the bed next to me.

"Yes," she mumbled into the mattress.

"Did you learn anything?"

Her head turned to the side then, facing me, and with a deep breath she spoke, "Since he failed to come to you last night, I had to hunt him down – which was not the easiest task. I did finally find where his quarters were, but was unable to know if he had already retired for the night. When I left to retrieve Ava, he still had not exited the room. The other girls know where his room is now, and we have worked out shifts to go and watch him. Now, if you do not mind, I would like to get my beauty sleep."

I laughed in spite of myself, "You will need quite a lot of sleep then," I teased.

Her eyes had already slid closed and she grumbled back to me, "Haha, now go away before I throw something at you."

Obediently, I rose to leave the chambers, but turned back to her one last time, "Thank you my friend," I whispered in earnest.

Morning seemed to fly by as each sister shared her stories with me when suddenly the main door to the chamber swung open. Yåkov stepped through the doorway, dressed casually in a pale blue tunic and plain brown trousers. Adorned on his face was a wide grin and he walked confidently into the room. He halted for only a moment as he took in the maidens surrounding me and then nodded in acknowledgement to each one. "Izabel," he called to me and he offered me the crook of his elbow, "I would be honored if you would walk with me."

The air outside was nice, the summer had faded into the coolness of autumn, the heats of the previous months had cooled and refreshing breezes now blew through the open courtyards and windows. I rose from my place between my sisters and took hold of his arm in acceptance. As I glanced back, I noticed the suspicious stares that followed us. Despite my stories of Yåkov's time spent with me, they each seemed to still doubt him.

We walked comfortably from the hall to the courtyard to the rear of the castle. His hand cupped my own that hooked his offered elbow and every now and then would pat it before pointing out a flower or bird that had caught his attention. Images of Jarpr pointing out the stars and whispering stories to me pushed to the front of my mind and I could feel my anger at his absence grow in the pit of my belly.

Yåkov had paused and pointed to a large oak tree that rested near a wall, "Would you like to go sit?"

"That seems nice, thank you." I allowed him to lead me to the tree and we sat, leaning against the rough bark, in silence. My eyes closed and I took in the sounds around me, the chirping of the birds, the songs of the squirrels as they raced around the ground and trees, the wind blowing through the branches. It was a pleasant afternoon, one in which I was content to just be.

Together we sat, enjoying the weather and the peace surrounding us, sometimes talking as we often did during our afternoon games. At one point, his hand reached out to hold mine, his thumb drew patterns into my palm.

When I returned to my chamber, the sun was low in the sky, and my sisters milled about cleaning and preparing the evening meal. The warm aroma of the venison they prepared filled the room and stirred my hunger. As we ate that night, their stories concluded, they updated me regarding the standing of each region – if the people there were able to meet the taxes, how the Jarls had failed to assist them. Generally, the feedback was not good as the people struggled to provide for their families and meet the growing demands of their leaders.

I was pulled from my concerns by a knock at the main chamber door; Jane rose and strode towards the door, then slightly opened the door. Upon seeing the visitor, she pulled the door open widely, and Leif stood in the tall frame, filling it with his large body. "Highness," he bowed, "are you ready for another lesson?"

Each sister eyed me, amusement apparent as they recalled my explanation of the training I completed with Leif a few nights each week. I shot them each a look, as if they would fair any better than I had thus far. I rose and greeted Leif, "Yes, allow me a moment to change from my gown," and I turned towards my bedchamber to change.

When we departed my chamber I looked curiously to my side and noticed Leif's odd expression, "Is something the matter?"

He paused, turned towards me, then thinking better of his intentions, continued to walk at my side, "Highness, some of the guard has disappeared. At first, it was only one or two, but the total has reached seven men whose whereabouts are unknown. We don't know if they returned to their families, or just disappeared into thin air."

"What do you think?" I inquired.

He pondered my question for a moment before he answered, "I think, that there is always the possibility that some would leave the guard, despite the dishonor they would bring to their families. But it is concerning for seven men to have gone missing."

"What is being done about the matter?"

We turned the corner then and were in the training courtyard, "Currently, I think everyone is being watched, to see if any others will leave. Other than that, I cannot say that any action has been taken. Perhaps a guard or two will be dispatched in a few days to seek out those who seemingly have abandoned their posts, if they are found alive and well, they will be put to death."

I understood – when a man joined the guard and swore his allegiance to the King and the people, he agreed to a lifetime of service, one that was only ended through his death or the release of the King. For those who abandoned their positions, it was only the axe that awaited their return.

"Let us focus on your training," Leif said, changing the subject, "I'm sure that sooner or later, we will get to the bottom of the matter."

We strode out to the training field and automatically I reached for the bat. Leif's hand stilled mine, "Not tonight, Highness. Tonight I will teach you the fighting positions, we will start with the easiest one." He lowered himself to his knees and gestured that I mimic his motions. I lowered myself into a position that mirrored his own, "Good, now lean forward slightly," our bodies inclined towards one another and I felt my balance falter slightly.

He noticed my wobbly balance and grinned, "That's normal, to feel slightly off balance. In this position we are going to spar with one another, the aim of this training is to knock me down and keep me down."

Leif moved slowly towards me, and I braced myself for the impact, my muscles bunched and my fingers curled like claws to meet my opponent. Yet, at the last moment he ducked from my reaching hands and tackled my waist, my balance failed, and I hit the ground with a soft thud. He laughed. "Not as easy as it appears," he explained then backed away so I could resume the previous position, "you try to knock me down," he instructed.

We continued to spar, each time resulting with me on the ground and a laughing Leif above me. I scowled. When training completed, Leif turned to me to explain, "Next time, you will swing the bat on each side – twenty strikes for each side, and then we will spar some more." I felt the blood drain from my face as I imagined my aching muscles, sore and tight from the practice with the bat, then stumbling into the position from tonight and attempting to at least stand against Leif.

"I cannot do that," I whispered.

"Not now you can't," he agreed, "but with practice, you will be able to leverage your strength to overpower me. It just takes time." He nodded, patted me on the back, and turned to depart.

I walked alone from the courtyard, slightly baffled that he had not escorted me to my chambers. Perhaps he assumed I could take care of myself, protect myself should anything occur, but it was still customary for him to walk with me. As I neared the entrance to the hall, I abruptly realized why the guard had departed from me.

There, leaning against the pebbled frame was Jarpr, arms crossed over his chest, and a look of disproval on his face. Proudly, I jutted my chin out and in spite of my sore muscles, forced my body to walk past him. "Highness," he acknowledged as I passed.

Easily he kept pace next to me, his long legs extending and gaining ground faster than I could without running. "Highness, you have grass in your hair," and his finger plucked the offending greenery from my braid. I ignored him.

"Highness," he called again, and still I ignored him.

Roughly, he grabbed my shoulders and turned me about to face him. "_Your Majesty_," he bit out, "please talk to me. What had I done to deserve your ire?"

It hurt when he did not even realize why I was angry with him. Of course, why should it occur to him how much I had come to crave his companionship? He of course, had someone at home, waiting for his safe return, and would not understand the ill-conceived fascination I held for him. Yet, he did deserve an explanation for my behavior, my anger towards him. My mind scrambled to come up with a believable lie, something to tell him that would not reveal my true feelings.

Yet, my mind was blank and without thought my lips spilled the truth, "You've been gone," I whispered and immediately wished I could take it back.

Visibly he grimaced, and then quickly composed his features into the typical blank mask. "I have been here, the entire time," he answered, skirting the glaring truth between us. "Allow me to escort you to your chambers."

Anger continued to boil beneath my skin; tiny bubbles of emotion that seemed to float slowly to the surface and with each thought pop like embers and explode white-hot fire in my veins. "No," I replied coldly and continued my return to my chambers.

I did not turn to look back on him as I departed, but even without looking, I could feel his emotions – anger, confusion, and perhaps even pain, radiating from his body. As the distance between us grew, physically as I left him and emotionally as my heart began to throb in his absence, I knew he would not follow me.

The days continued to pass in the same fashion, each one bleeding into the next as I began to sleepwalk through the motions. Jarpr had resumed his schedule of greeting me in the mornings with breakfast, yet now with my sisters present, the interlude no longer felt intimate. The matter was not helped any with the state we found ourselves in – the "I'm not talking to you" state. Yåkov would come and escort me for a walk around midday, sometimes we would eat lunch together, other times we would play and talk underneath that same tree from our first walk.

I had taken these days to think about the information gathered for me - the state of affairs for my people looked grim at best as they struggled to prepare for the winter and to survive the autumn. Guards had gone missing, several in fact, and I found myself agreeing with Leif – one or two missing guards were normal, men who for one reason or another found themselves unable to meet the demands of their chosen lives and would foolishly run. Foolish because these new guards rarely, if ever, outran the axe that would end their lives; sooner or later either due to hunger or seeking the comforts of home, these men would return somewhere familiar, somewhere known to them. In their thoughtlessness they failed to realize that if was known to them, _they_ were known to others and word would spread quickly to the palace of their whereabouts. However, seven men had disappeared and I could not fathom seven men being so foolish as to tempt their fates by abandoning their oaths, to bring utter ruin and dishonor to their family names, to bring shame to their villages. And so, I pondered this information of the hardships my people faced and the mysterious disappearances, and it was deep in thought that Yåkov found me for our midday walk.

We walked to the shade of the tree and sat together, neither of us really talking but enjoying the other's company. As I had pulled away, or perhaps rather been _pushed_ away from Jarpr, I found myself actually enjoying time with Yåkov; he seemed thoughtful – someone who carefully considered what he would say and do well in advance of acting or speaking. He listened to me when I spoke, and his smile was wide and sincere.

A servant approached us then, bowed, and acknowledge my husband, "Highness," he began, "one of the Jarls has just arrived to speak with you."

Lazily, Yåkov arched an eyebrow and replied, "I will see him soon enough," and then seemed to ignore the servant.

The youth in front of us was lanky, yet tall for his age, which I could only guess was a few years younger than myself. Startled I realized he was just a boy, a nervous boy who fidgeted in his discomfort. His brown hair was disheveled and looked as though it had not been cleaned for days. Yet, the boy's hands were free from dirt, his uniform looked fresh, even his face appeared tidy. I wondered why his hair was matted and dulled, why such special care was taken for all other matters of his appearance, but not for his hair.

I recalled in my youth when my mother had explained to me the importance of one's appearance. "It is a matter of pride; pride for your family and yourself." I had been seated on her lap as she pulled the comb through my hair, gently tugging at the snarls and tangles. Her own hair had been combed and pulled into a braid that hung past her shoulders. Each morning, she would help me wash my hair – her fingers would probe my scalp while the lather built and grew until she would rinse my long hair in the basin. As the air blew into her chamber, drying my hair, she would pull the comb through and share a mother's wisdom. Her sage offerings always focused on bringing pride to our family through service to others, care for our bodies and appearance, and how we treated one another. My mother had lived her own advice, often helping servants she passed in the halls or feeding the people at the wall. While some memories were blurry, hazy – as if I were seeing them through a fog, others were clear and sharp, as I recalled toddling after her from childhood until her death. Only, I had not been there for her death; like Nada before me, I had been gone when the screams echoed throughout the palace and her cold body had been discovered. My only comfort was that I was _there_ with my father, the night he had passed from this life to the next.

The boy's nervous exhale returned me to the present and I watched as he continued to sway from side to side in indecision. As I watched him, I wondered what his own family was like; were they proud people? Had this boy, lanky and nervous as he was – had he been born into this life? Or like Leif and Jane, had he entered this life willingly? I imagined him walking determined – shoulders squared, chin jutted out, eyes fixed straight ahead, walking into the palace and volunteering his services in exchange for the coin he could send home to his waiting family. That family – did it consist of a mother and father, perhaps sisters and brothers? As I tried to envision the smiling people who would undoubtedly worry for their son or brother, I felt the sharp pang of jealousy as I realized I had no family of my own. My father had joined my mother in the afterlife, no grave to visit or talk to, their laps, their arms would no longer hold me or run a comb through my hair. Their bodies were ash now and for a moment I remembered each of their partings; the large boat overflowing to the brim with riches for their journeys into the afterlife. The coins and riches to pay their way at the gates, to allow them to move on and be reunited with one another; the fire that had engulfed their bodies as they floated – almost peacefully, into the sea.

"But Highness, he said," the boy was cut off as Yåkov's hand met the side of his face, the slap resounding in my ears as a horrible, wretched cry. When the boy turned back to face us, an ugly red welt in the shape of my husband's hand had already begun to swell. His lower lip trembled as he struggled to regain control and composure, "I'm sorry," he bowed again and departed.

I was utterly shocked.

"Yåkov," I began, my tone clearly disproving, "by the gods, why did you do that?" There was a part of me that desired to run after the boy, to see to his injury, and apologize on Yåkov's behalf, while another, larger, louder part demanded that I remain put and communicate how unacceptable the behavior was.

He shrugged, eyes still closed as he replied, "He bothered me." As if the mere annoyance that the boy may have presented justified his action, as if any such bother were an acceptable excuse for hitting another person.

"Yåkov," I began again, allowing the anger to color my voice, and this time he opened his eyes to peer back at me, "that is not acceptable. You cannot hit him!"

Some unknown emotion flashed across his face, before confusion seemed to wash through him, "Why not? Are they not our servants? Are they not our property? You should have that one servant of yours whipped for failing to attend to his duties last night."

I tugged at the elbow that now propped his head against the bark of the tree, "No! They are _people_! Our people that we have vowed to protect, to lead. I fail to understand your reasoning, why you feel they are mere chattel to do with as you please."

He sat upright now and peered back at me, confusion still lighting his eyes, "I suppose, that is not how I was raised. Our servants were chattel, they were our property, and it was our place to lead them as their masters. If we fail to lead them, we shame not only our family, but them as well. Are you saying that is not the way?"

"No, it is not the way. Allow me to deal with any servants you feel are in need of leadership, alright?" He nodded and then stood; dusting the dirt from his trousers, then offered a hand to help me rise from the ground.

He was quiet then, seemingly lost in his own thoughts as he contemplated my words. The birds who sang in the distance seemed to slowly fade away as I recalled the time Father had taught me such a lesson. I was but a girl, perhaps eight or nine years old, and had yet to learn humility. In my innocent youth, sheltered from the harsh realities of life, a little girl doted on by her father; I was expectant that others also treat me with the same reverence and adoration. That morning was the first day of spring, warmth had slowly crawled in and taken over the last of the biting chill from winter, and I was eager to wear my bright yellow dress. With yellow and white short sleeves, a bright yellow bodice with a lace edging, and a hem that skirted just below my knees – it had been the ideal spring frock. As spring had edged ever closer, I had taken to eyeing the dress everyday, fingering the soft material, and sighing in anticipation for _the_ day I would wear it. When the day finally dawned, I had jumped from my bed to bathe so my body would be as fresh and clean as the dress itself. I imagined sliding the cool fabric over my skin, twirling about as the shortened hem ruffled around my legs from the movement, and stepping into Father's arms all wrapped up in sunshine.

The servant, my mother's maid, had other intentions that day. Unknown to me that while the weather was warm, there had been rumors of great storms on the far region that had slowly moved inwards towards the castle. In the village outside the castle, people bustled about preparing their homes to withstand the storm of wild rain and fierce winds. Mother's servant knew how long I anticipated wearing my new dress, and it was with much regret that she had denied me that unfortunate morning. She worried, that should the storm hit suddenly, that my dress would be ruined by the pounding rain and mud that would surely slosh about; she advised me to wait until after the storm had passed to wear my brightly colored dress. Rage had clouded my vision, as I thought to myself how unfair that this _servant_ would deny me anything. I screamed and hit at her in my fit and marched down the halls, in my dressing gown, to my father. My eyes were red and puffy from the crying that was supposed to sway the servant to my benefit, my cheeks lined with tears, and my throat was sore. I ran to his arms and crying, shared my story of being wronged by that woman, that _servant_. Forcefully my father had pulled me away from him, untangled my arms and legs from his body, and looked at me sternly with disapproval.

It was then my father explained to me the importance of treating people right, a lesson he thought I had already learned, something he felt had always been modeled for me, but in that moment realized that while I had been taught this, I had never _learned_ it. And so, it was with a heavy heart that he sent me to live and work one day and night with my mother's maid, to not only see but experience the vast differences between the life I led and the life she led. The experience was eye opening as I was forced to clean the palace and work harder than I ever had before, and witness how freemen and freewomen treated these hard working people. While the maid lived in the palace, and her family did not go without food or shelter, I did learn a humble pride throughout the experience and I learned that my own pride – the honor that my family and I share, not only encompasses how we look or how we lead, but is equal only to the compassion we have for others.

Yåkov spoke then, "I suppose I should go see which Jarl has visited today," he grimaced slightly, "I am sorry it has cut our time short. Perhaps, I will seek you out after, if that is alright with you."

"Yes, of course. We still have yet to play another round, I know I'll beat you this time." He smiled, and then captured one of my hands in his, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. Then he turned and walked in the same direction the boy had retreated, his steps were long and deliberate and for a moment I felt a chill pass through as I watched him go.

Jarpr came then, seemingly out of nowhere and the shade felt suddenly, uncomfortably full. Strange how he seemed to appear and almost disappear out of nowhere, his approach almost always unheard; and yet something inside me whispered that he would only be heard if _chose_ to be heard.

"Highness," he bowed, "I was looking for you."

My eyes scanned the area in search of the shadow he should surely have, but I could see none. Either my sisters were very good at remaining hidden, or he was very good at going unnoticed. "The King asked me for a walk," I explained and shrugged my shoulders.

"I see," he replied, his voice hard. "And do you trust His Highness?"

My eyes narrowed, "Yes," and as I thought it over I realized that in the days and weeks we had shared, almost uninterrupted together, that my trust had been restored in this unassuming man that I had once despised.

Jarpr kept his distance from me, and for once the silence that lay between us was uncomfortable and awkward. I fidgeted and wanted to ask why he had avoided me, a small voice whispered that she wondered why he no longer came to me at night after my nightmares. Yet, I could not bring myself to ask any of these questions, my cheeks flamed at the mere thought of doing so.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," he whispered, I looked up to see him peering at me in confusion, brows knit together with a slight "v" forming, eyes focused on me, head tilted to the side. "You are obviously uncomfortable and embarrassed, but for what I cannot imagine."

My emotions warred with one another – I wanted to be honest with him, demand answers to my questions, while I also still angry and wanted to strike out. My mind grappled at the warring emotions and I blurted the first thing that came to me, "Perhaps I was thinking of my husband," I replied snidely.

Surprisingly, my mark appeared to have its intended effect as Jarpr visibly stiffened and took one stride backwards from me, "Is that so?" he asked, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists at his side.

"Yes, perhaps it is," I answered in a tight voice, "why? Does it make you jealous?"

Blood erupted in my cheeks as the words registered in my mind. Jealous? Where did that come from? I knew, without a doubt, that Jarpr could not possibly be jealous - his own love waiting for him to return to his homelands. I imagined her as beautiful, eyes bright with love for him, smiling as he returned to her open embrace. Quickly, I shoved that image away and ground my teeth together in frustration. No, it was not Jarpr who would be jealous; it was – without a doubt, stupidly, _me_ that would be jealous.

"What would you know?" he spat back, anger coloring his beautiful face – eyes dark, jaw clenched, muscles tight and bunched under his uniform. "I should take my leave," he bowed and turned sharply away, not bothering to wait for my dismissal.

I stood beneath that oak tree for some time, musing through my shock at the events that occurred with Yåkov, the boy, and now Jarpr, and I worried for the boy who had been struck – was he alright?

Now was as good a time as any to seek him out and make sure he was okay. So I followed the path taken earlier into the side entrance of the castle. This entrance emptied me into the hall near the throne room and I chewed my lip as I considered which direction the boy had taken. As I considered the halls before me, I heard a loud booming voice from the throne room and turned, curious, as to what was going on. The door was unguarded, and slightly ajar as I bent over to peek in, feeling slightly ashamed at my unknown observance.

Yåkov was seated on my father's throne, and before him was – I assumed – the back of the visiting Jarl. He was tall, his clothing rich in bold colors and soft looking fabrics, but was obstructed by another individual who stood slightly to his side. I realized, with a shock, it was the boy from earlier. Visibly, even from where I stood now frozen, he shook under the intense gaze of the Jarl to his side and the King to his front. His voice was a whining, almost keening noise and I realized he was whimpering.

Still frozen, I watched as my husband rose from his throne and again struck the boy, much harder this time, and as his face whipped to the side, I spied the blood that had run down alongside his face. My hands flew to cover my mouth as I watched in horror as Yåkov struck him again and again. Fear seemed to freeze me to the spot, numbness chilling each limb, each muscle in place.

_Stop this! You must do something!_

My brain jarred me awake and I stood upright, ready to throw the doors wide open and march into the horrific scene unfolding before me. An icy hand gripped my shoulder and tugged me backwards, and even as he spun me around I knew it would be Jarpr.

"No," he hissed, eyes darting behind me towards the doors. "Do not even think about going in there," he instructed, voice firm.

"I have to stop that," I replied, and as my voice reached my ears, realized that it sounded broken, thick, and heavy as I attempted to hold the tears at bay. "I cannot allow that! That poor boy!" The tears ran silent down my cheeks now, and yet I held the building sobs back, burning my chest in my struggle.

"No," he said again, "If you go in there, it will not end well – for you or the boy. Trust me, Highness. Come with me before they catch us out here." His cold grip tugged me down the hall and out the same exit I had entered by. Numbly, my feet complied with his direction and I half expected him to pull me to the forest, when abruptly he stopped.

We stood in the shadows of the castle, outside of hearing range from the halls, but still within sight.

Anguish washed over – guilt that I had not stopped the beating and horror that my _husband_ was the one beating the boy. What could have happened? Why would he do such a thing? My focus turned to the memories I now shared with Yåkov, the man I thought was kind and gentle, a man who sought to be both understood and understanding, a man who was learning and growing and _not_ becoming the man his father had wanted him to be. From our talks, I had gathered his father had been a hard – yet perceived as fair, by Yåcov, man. The man's outlook on life was one of a heavy hand, to act first and ask questions later, and one who had his sight on his son becoming king. A man, who I had today learned, taught his son to beat servants. Yet I had thought Yåkov had listened to me, had cared for what I said, and was growing into a well thought and compassionate leader.

_Gods, could I be wrong?_

I tried not to judge my husband, my mind whirled and danced as I attempted to find any reason for the scene I had observed, for any valid excuse that would allow such utter disregard for the boy.

And yet, I could think of none.

My face probably conveyed my shock, my horror over what I had seen and I was only vaguely aware that Jarpr had led me to the edge of the courtyard, quite near the gate leading to the woods, and had sat me on the grassy floor. Gently, he shook my shoulders in attempt to focus my attention. Dazed, I felt my eyes come back into focus and I could begin to make out his worried expression.

"Highness," he began, "you must not say anything about what you saw." His voice was firm and I wanted to trust it, but I had also wanted to trust Yåkov.

"Why?" I asked.

Jarpr's eyes darted about the courtyard behind us, appearing to scan the area for any who had followed us and again I wondered where my sisters were – hiding somewhere or had Jarpr shaken them completely? His gaze settled on me and he replied, "Because it would endanger you. That's all I can say, but please trust me. Remember, this is why I was sent here. That's all I can say. Just stay out of it." He hissed the last part and I felt a shudder pass through and unconsciously leaned away from him, my back meeting the rough stones of the bordering wall.

My mind continued to whirl and dance about, yet only one question stood at the forefront: what didn't I know?

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**A/N:** Let me apologize for the delayed update. The move appears to be complete and the Internet looks like it will work (there's been some issues this week) so hopefully we will resume weekly updates. Fingers crossed!

Now with all that said, a few things about this chapter. I really worried over it because we are going to begin learning some secrets soon and for that to happen, obviously some things have to happen in order to reveal those secrets. My husband disagrees with me that some secrets won't be revealed until the very end, so you may end up with some more reveals - well specifically Izabel may learn some things (that you already know) before the end of the story. I am very anxious to read your feedback from this chapter as this is - potentially - a game changer in the story. This chapter is brings in several chapters where a lot is going on, is revealed, and may even feel a little rushed in comparision to the other chapters.

Historically speaking, the Vikings - along with many other cultures in this time period, would build a pyre on a boat for a dead person and litter it with currency. I read one story in the Viking sagas where a Jarl (or lord) was placed on a boat, it was filled to capacity with riches, and a virgin was sent with him. The boat was set on fire, the virgin died with him, but it was to give him riches to pass through the gates to the afterlife (because they believed you literally had to pay for that passage) and a virgin to pleasure and comfort him. Since I don't really think that's something Izabel's father would want, I left the virgin off his boat. ;-)

Big thanks to pastel for her theories on the flower! The answer was actually "marigold" and the meaning behind it is a desire for riches and power. I'll let you think on that little piece of information. ;-)

Finally (as if this A/N wasn't long enough!) for those of you who read the teaser I posted back in November - we are nearing that point. I can't say how many chapters away we are from it, but we are getting very close. I estimate we will cover about 1 month, MAYBE 1.5 months before we reach that part. So get ready for a bumpy ride. ;-)

Oh, and reviews are always appreciated and brighten my day. Please let me know what you think! :)


	17. Chapter 16: Other

**Disclaimer: Anything Twilight belongs to SM. The rest is mine. :)**

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Jarpr said no more about the incident, but rather quietly ushered me back to my chamber. My whole body felt numb yet throbbed with betrayal at the same time. It was curious how – in that moment - I felt utterly disconnected from everything around me and yet felt hyper aware of everything at the same time. From the fading sunlight that threaded through the tree limbs, to the crunch of leaves beneath my feet, to the shuffle of servants who passed by in the hall; I saw everything and took in nothing.

When we arrived to my chambers, my sisters were seated in the sitting room chatting amongst one another, fingers woven into one anther's hair as they twisted and braided the strands; then they turned to greet me and as they each took in my face, their own cheeks paled, mouths dropped open, and I could see the concern wash over their features. Jarpr's voice rang out – deep in it's authority, and cleared the room. "Everyone out," he commanded, and my sisters sat dumbfounded and stared at him. "Now!" he growled at them. As if awoken from a strange sleep, they each rose and scurried from the room; as they passed each looked to me with concern, but continued their plight from the chamber.

I had heard Jarpr angry before, heard him commanding, and even heard him be gentle, yet never before had his voice rang out with such power, such presence. No other, outside myself, could ever command and move my sisters to such action.

For a moment, I wondered if I should be worried.

_Ha!_ Laughter bubbled up in my mind and slowly sank into my bones, into my throat, and finally escaped from my lips. I was not entirely sure why I was so suddenly overcome with laughter, just that I had found something very amusing. Apparently, Jarpr could not understand my sudden transformation from shocked to laughing either. He looked at me with open curiosity, and then with a shake of his head – as if he never understood me – turned to follow my sisters out and close the door.

Nada remained in the frame of the door, arms crossed over her chest in defiance as she stood her ground against Jarpr's approach. I wanted to warn her, to let her know how shockingly powerful he was, but the words would not form. Instead, only laughter continued to spill from my lips.

Jarpr reached the doorway, placed one hand on the open door, and glared at her. "Leave," he hissed, his voice guttural.

She looked as if she were about to reply, but instead sucked in a large breath of air and shook her head in response. Jarpr's hooded head tilted to the side, and it reminded me of a lynx I had once hunted as it had tilted its head to the side as it stared down its prey. "I will not harm her. I would never harm her, but I need you to leave. You have my word that I will keep her safe in your absence. Why don't you run along and go hide outside my room again?" His voice was both teasing and serious, and felt like a warm fur that enveloped my whole body. The warmth shot through me, from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes and reached every inch of me in between. And though in that moment between madness from the utter shock and betrayal I felt from Yåkov's actions and the strange comfort that only Jarpr could bring to me, I felt truly safe.

Then the world met me again and with a start, I realized what he had said to her, "Why don't you run along and go hide outside my room again?"

_Gods!_ He knew that she had been spying on him! How did he know? How did he _always_ seem to know what he could not reasonably have knowledge of? It was like he was always everywhere, somewhere within earshot and heard every whisper, every plan, and every plot within the palace.

And then like tumblers in a lock, my mind began to piece together the puzzle I did not even know it had been working on. My mind throbbed as flashes of memories surged forward, memories I had repressed and pushed aside as lesser priorities. These memories, I realized, had each been quick instances in which I had easily been distracted, my attention diverted to other priorities.

In my mind I recalled each time he touched me – from the first time to the most recent, his strange cold and hard skin against my own. I remembered how strange I found his coldness but had dismissed it each time, but the actual texture of his skin – smooth yet so hard, unyielding. Mindlessly, my eyes crept down to my own forearm and the pads of my opposing fingers pushed lightly against the flesh. Pale flesh easily yielded to my gentle fingers, my skin felt warm under my touch – natural, as a _human's_ body should feel.

Before I could linger too long on his strange skin, I recalled his speed, his grace – his loping walk or how easily he had pounced from the tree at the end of my hunt. In short, he was invisible. He always appeared out of nowhere, I never heard him or saw him approach, never even smelled him – but could always _feel_ him nearby. Another memory stirred then.

That day in the maze, the day I met Leif. I recalled the loud thumping of Leif's boots as they hit the ground, yet the whole reason I hid was because I _felt_ – did not see or hear, but rather _felt_ someone nearby. I had only recently met Jarpr and had not yet figured out that I only felt his nearness, the odd sensation of the humming in my veins and along my skin, the tug and pulling towards some unknown source.

_He's not human, _I realized with a start. He was very obviously not human. No human could be as strong or fast or silent or just completely and totally _other_ as he most obviously was.

As my mind continued to implode with these thoughts, these memories, Nada and Jarpr stared at one another. I knew I had to act or I would never be alone with him; never get the answers to the questions firing off in my mind.

"It's alright, you may leave me." I nodded to her, my voice thin but still somewhat strong. She glanced to Jarpr's firmly composed face, to his eyes that glared back at her, then to me – encouraging and assuring and with a sigh, she turned and left.

The door closed with a soft thud and Jarpr turned to me.

Memories, theories, ideas all swirled in my mind – danced like the fog that crossed from the ocean inland and blanketed the sea villages. Unable to repress the questions any longer I asked him the one thought in my mind, "_What are you?"_

He grimaced – his carefully composed mask had slipped and he grimaced; a sure sign that my theories – while possibly not entirely correct, were on the right path. In only a few short strides he reached me, faced me and answered me, "I cannot tell you."

My head shook from side to side, "No. Obviously you are," I paused and considered what to say. Should I say not human? Should I say something other? Stories circulated in every village of the supernatural, of _things_ that were not human. And then it made sense; the stories were always about immortals, about gods, demons, and monsters. Yet as I looked upon Jarpr, I could not fathom him as a demon or a monster. I swallowed audibly, a thick sound as my mind warily reached out for the other option.

_Gods._

_No, they are just stories._

_The stories are not real._

_Are they?_

"You are not like me," I whispered. And then as quickly as I could, yet probably still slow in comparison to his own speed, I gripped one arm that hung at his side, pulled it closer to me, and pushed against the exposed skin along the top of his hand.

His skin was cold, unyielding – smooth like a polished stone yet harder than any rock I had ever felt before. And like every time I had touched him before, the hum and the shock of my skin meeting his, was there. "No, not like me. Something else," I whispered, and placed my palm over his hand, reveling in the feel of the hum against my skin. My eyes slid closed – something I never would have done with someone I did not trust.

Yet I did trust him. All my ire, my anger, my hurt from the previous days that had mounted and grown and almost consumed me every time I saw him, seemed to float away. In its absence, was only the hum against my skin, the feeling of fulfillment, the feeling of safety and rightness, and that _this_ was where I was supposed to be. "Why," I started, my voice breathy, "why does it feel this way when I touch you?"

Dark eyes stared back at me and I struggled to remember their color when I first saw him today. He had approached me after my walk with Yåkov but I could not recall their color at that time; yet I remembered other visits and walks and that his eyes had been a bright amber color – like the honey I spread on my bread or the color of the fading sun.

How had I never noticed this before? How had this escaped my awareness? My fingers wrapped around his hand and I continued to sigh and breathe in the feeling of his skin against my own. Flashes erupted in my mind, of him and me entangled with one another – his eyes dark and burning, his arms wrapped about me, our naked limbs a knot. I gasped, my eyes shot open and stared back at him.

The spell was broken and he yanked his hand away, took a step back. "I said, I can't tell you," he bit out and turned away from me, his tense, squared shoulders facing me.

"Please," my voice sounded broken and anguished, even to my own ears. These feelings, the confusion, the want, the pull – they were so foreign and unknown to me; I tried to understand them, to put them in their place but as he stepped further away from me, I felt utterly compelled to follow him. "Please," I whispered again, "I need answers. I need to know why you make me feel," another pause as I reigned myself in. Under no circumstances could I admit the depth of my obsession, of my fascination with him. "Why do you make me feel safe? Like I can trust you, when I know that I should not. Please, give me some answers." The fire was building in my heart, expanding with every pump of my blood, every throb of my pulse, and the feeling slowly became so encompassing that I could see was he.

As I stared at his shoulders, I realized he was not breathing – that he was completely still, like a statue in the temples. Another thick swallow, a shuffle of my feet towards him, and I resolved myself that while I would allow myself to move closer to him that I would _not_ touch him again.

Silence descended on us, the only sounds the darkening forest and my ragged breathing. Then, as if he had reached a decision he spun back towards me. His gait, posture, even expression had all changed – he was bent slightly forward and reminded me of any of the large cats I had hunted as he sauntered towards me. On instinct, I backed away as he drew closer.

He would step forward.

I would step backward.

Forward. Backward.

My eyes lifted from his leather boots, up his body, until I was locked in his gaze. Dark eyes seemed to capture me in their gaze as we continued our odd dance of forward and backward. When my shoulders touched the stone of the wall, a gasp escaped me.

And then, he was in front of me – mere inches away; and I knew that I had not seen him move.

He had not hidden his speed from me this time; had not masked it or attempted to act human.

This could be very bad.

"You feel this way because," he paused as if to ask himself if he was really going to answer my absurd questions, then continued, "humans are always either very drawn to or repelled by us. You seem to be drawn in, but do not be fooled – it does not mean you should or can trust me." He leaned forward, closer so that his nose almost touched my cheek. I could feel his cold breath on the shell of my ear as he whispered, "Do not trust me." Another pause and then, "And do not get in my way."

It was a thinly veiled threat, one that sent a shiver up my spine. He backed a few inches away and I looked into his face. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of emotions that I could not begin to attempt to understand. "I warn you Highness, I _can_ be your friend, I _can_ be someone you can trust, and I have _no_ intention to harm you. But you must allow me to do what I was sent here to do. If you get in my way, if you attempt to stop me," another pause, a dark chuckle and then, "well, you won't be able to stop me, and then you will see me exceptionally upset. Do you understand?"

He drew back further from me and searched my face for an answer. "I do not think I _want_ to stop you," I confessed. And the confessions continued to fall from me, practically stumbled over one another, "I already trust you, more than almost anyone. I want to know you though, if the reason I feel so drawn in is simply due to your nature, so be it. Allow me to know you, before you return to wherever it is you came from." A new question bloomed then and I could not help myself from asking, "Are you even from Tyr?"

Another step back was followed by a dark chuckle, "You are quiet observant. I guess that depends on what specifically you mean when you say _from_ Tyr." He held up his hand, palm forward, "But I won't answer that question, at least – not tonight."

"How did you know?" I blurted out, "How did you know Nada had spied on you?"

He laughed – a deep, rich laugh and as I watched his face expand from the sound that rolled from him, I could see the genuine humor he enjoyed from my question. "Highness, really? Do you think so little of me – human spy or _other_, that I would not discover the shadows you cast on me?"

Suddenly, I did feel quite foolish thinking that he would not discover my sisters, sent to watch him. I could feel the blood erupt behind my cheeks at my embarrassment, heat seemed to roll off from me, and again, he appeared before me – hands cupped my cheeks, darkened eyes drank me in, lips hovered so very near my own. My body ached – cried out for him, and without my consent my back arched and pressed my breasts closer to him. I fought to keep my eyes open – to not allow them to slide closed, or the moan that was building from his nearness to escape. Audibly, I clamped my mouth shut, gritted my teeth against the almost overpowering emotion, and desperately attempted to regain control of my wanton body.

Yet, he stared at me. His dark eyes seemed to consume me and my skin prickled and bubbled under his heated gaze. The images from my dreams began to swim in my vision and I realized – with a start – how very much I wanted him. Man or something else, it did not matter – all I knew was that I wanted him. Beneath the thin fabric of my dress, I felt my nipples pebble and hardened, my belly felt nervous and knotted, and at the apex of my thighs, I could feel myself swell and dampen. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply and a low moan slipped from his lips, as he seemed to taste the air surrounding us. I could feel my body reacting, pushing me towards him, begging me to allow myself to respond, the touch him, to truly indulge in anything and everything he could offer me.

The truth however, was that I was a mere human – someone who had fallen into the natural trap, the natural allure of whatever he was; it was something he could not control and probably annoyed him endlessly. Humans were either drawn to him – as I most obviously was – or repelled by him.

The story of Andromeda burst forth in my mind – a human who was loved by a god. His strange, oddly offended, reaction to my thoughts of the story made sense. I had offended, perhaps not a god, but an immortal with my dismissal and anger towards the power I felt Baldr had abused. I had practically insulted the young god; had practically stated that immortals and humans should not interact – or at least that is what he seemed to take from the conversation. As the memory filled me, so did the knowledge that _he_ did love someone; a woman I would wager who was beautiful and worthy of him, his equal in all aspects. Sadness threatened to wash over me as I again realized that his someone was not and would never be – me.

Internally, I chastised myself. Now I knew that my fascination, my obsession with this man was fabricated, that it was not real. I was a human, ensnared by his nature – nothing more. In my position, I could not afford the luxury of wanting someone. No, I had people who very much needed me, issues that needed to be addressed, and a husband that until very recently, I thought I had known. A husband I thought I could someday possibly love, someone who would father my children. And yet, in his wake he left beaten servants, hungry people, and missing guards.

_Missing guards._

Jarpr had intimate knowledge of what had happened to Jane. How he knew what he knew was beyond me, but I recalled that it was _he_ who sent my sisters to retrieve the girl. This was a fact that I had also buried in my mind, pushed to the recesses of my thoughts as I had focused entirely on the girl's healing and safety. Yet somehow Jarpr knew what had happened to her, he had known that I had sought revenge against the guards even though I could not recall ever sharing that information with him. He was a much better spy than I had ever given him credit for, and in that moment – that realization chilled me.

"The guards," I murmured, my body still pressed to his, the smell of him fanning across my face. I looked into his dark eyes, bottomless orbs that reminded me so much of the lakes that I so often visited. "What has happened to the guards? Where are they?"

He looked down, as if ashamed, his chin tucked closely to his neck, his nose grazing my skin. The skin along his jaw flexed and after a moment, he looked at me again. Murderous eyes looked back at me and I shrank in their hold. "They've been taken care of," was his reply.

"Taken care of?" I repeated. Somehow I _knew_ that meant he had killed them, but I had to know. "Does that mean you've killed them?" He sighed and stepped away from me, placing several feet between us.

"Yes, if you must know, I have killed them."

"Why?" I breathed.

"Because, they were bad, incredibly dangerous. I could not allow such evil to live. Do you know _who_ I killed, Your Majesty? I killed the savages who brutalized a young girl, who without thought to her used her body and beat her. Who, had she not been moved to the safety of your chambers, would have eventually killed her. They would have killed her slowly, painfully, and delighted not only in her death, but also in the most pain they could inflict. So yes, Highness, I killed them. Yes, it has caused some unfortunate attention that I did not want during my time here, but it was something that had to be done." One brow arched and his head tilted to the side again, "As I recall, _you_ were headed there to kill them. I cannot imagine you are so put out that _I_ finished what you wanted to begin."

It was true. I had snuck to the guards' longhouses in search of the men who had terrorized Jane, who had harmed her in a way no woman, no person, should ever be harmed. Yet, it was this quiet spy, this man or something _other_ before me, which had served death's punishment, which had stolen these men away and ended their lives. "But, how did you even know who they were? How could you possibly have known _what_ I was planning that night?"

Suddenly, his composure was more casual; as if the discussion of these deaths were a more comfortable topic. "I know these things because I am very good at what I do; it was why I came – why I volunteered."

"If you were going to kill them, why did you stop me? Why not allow me to do what I had set out to do?" My voice had risen as I remembered that night; when he had grabbed me from behind, when his anger and rage had been barely concealed. I remembered his hold on me, painful in its intensity, his black eyes that seemed to sear my soul.

"I could not allow you to be harmed. Had you attempted to kill those men, I would surely have revealed my true nature. At the time, I was still unsure if you were the enemy." There was another pause, as he considered his next words. When he spoke again, his words chilled me, yet confused me further as well, "Never forget, I came prepared to _kill_ you as well."

I nodded as I considered his words. He had admitted as much in the forest, during our hunt – where he could have easily completed his mission to kill me and escape unnoticed. But he did _not_ kill me, with the exception of _that_ night, never even seemed truly angry with me. Something did not fit and I struggled to piece it together, to understand. "But you did not kill me. You have protected me. You _are_ dangerous," I agreed, "but you are not evil. You are not a monster. None of the stories fit, you are obviously not a troll or a demon. And you protect people." I chewed on this thoughtfully, "Not just protect, but you _care_ about people, about their wellbeing. I don't understand, yet – but I will." I jutted my chin out in defiance as I spoke, to communicate to him that I would find out what he was hiding from me.

Amusement danced in his eyes, now fading from their dark color to a lighter shade. "Stories and legends, not quite original. But I assure you, I do not come from this land and there are no stories here of my kind." He chuckled. "I don't suppose you will let this go will you? Be content that I protect you and will leave soon? There is no reason for you to seek more information."

_Except I want to know you. And I do not want you to leave._

"No," I answered and struggled with my composure as my heart clenched at the thought his permanent absence.

"Well then," he replied and took another step away from me, "I do hope you enjoy disappointment."

He turned to leave then and I called one last question to his retreating form, "Will you leave soon?"

"Soon enough," he replied, and his voice sounded sad, as if he too dreaded his own departure. Silently, his feet carried him to the door and as he reached out to pull the door wide I called out to him again.

"Wait!"

There was a hesitation, his arm had reached for the door and hung in midair and I hoped that he would pause, that he would turn, and face me again. The indecision hung in the air, covered us like a thick, heavy cloud. Seconds of silence ticked by as I gathered my courage. "Please don't go," I whispered.

The room had darkened, and without the light of the fire, Jarpr was just a shadow now, his body outlined for me to see.

_Please, please stay._

And then he turned again, faced me, as I had wished. The features of his normally composed face looked torn, as if perhaps – and perhaps this was merely wishful thinking on my part – but maybe, _just maybe_ he did _want_ to stay. While the other side of him apparently did not _want_ – no, that seemed off; perhaps felt he _should not_ stay. Gulping in air, breathing it into my heavy lungs, I placed one foot in front of the other again and again, and with slow steps on wobbly legs, I crossed the distance until I again stood in front of him. "Please," I whispered again, "please, stay."

I was at a loss to fully verbalize my request. _Please stay. Comfort me. Hold me. Tell me stories, place your hands on my body – give me a massage if that is what it takes. Please do not force my hand; please do not make me _make you_ stay._ Inwardly, I laughed – as if _I_ could ever make Jarpr do anything he was not already inclined to do. _Just stay with me. Tell me stories, whisper to me about anything and nothing – just stay. _

"I should not," came the reply. His voice sounded strange, not quite angry but rough all the same. There was a strange color that tainted it and I could only wonder, could only guess what that may be. "Highness, I _should_ leave."

Without thinking, my arms reached out to him, my fingers fumbled in the dark to catch any part of him – an arm, a hand, his side; anything to grab hold of. I felt the leather of his tunic, felt the firm skin of his arm, and wrapped my slender fingers around him. With all my strength I pulled and tugged on him, attempted to draw him closer to me or to even just move him from the door. When I felt him move towards me I knew it was only because he allowed the action. I pulled him from the foyer, past the sitting room, and towards my bedchamber.

"Ow!" I exclaimed as my toe meet something large and hidden in the now almost entirely darkened room. He chuckled and I scowled in return.

"I will build a fire, because while I can still see in this," I believe his free arm waived around in gesture to the blackness that had crept in, "apparently you cannot."

Then he was gone and suddenly there was light flickering from my room. My eyes slowly adjusted to the light and carefully I padded towards it. Arms were outstretched to stop me from possibly bumping into another object, or wall, or doorway, and I clumsily made my way towards my bedchamber. Cold arms scooped me up and flitted me to the room and then sat me down upon the long bench opposite of my bed. I heard rather than saw the heavy door close and then he was beside me again. His lips were pulled into a lopsided, crooked grin that seemed to brighten his entire face and there was laughter in his almost golden eyes.

"You are not even pretending," I acknowledged.

He nodded, "Why would I? You know what you know," his shoulders moved up and then down casually, "and it is bothersome, sometimes even weary to pretend. Imagine walking slow, moving slowly everyday."

I tried to imagine what it must be like for him, to possess such speed and skill, and yet pretend to be less than what he was. How much did he pretend? Seated next to me, smiling gloriously – was he pretending now? "Why," I began, "why did you stay?"

The smile faltered and he sighed again, "I don't know why really. I know that I should _not_ stay. And yet, I want to stay. It is not often that I meet someone like you, someone who interests me, who surprises me. I never really know what to expect from you. You are sincere, you are fierce, you are loyal; and while all these things make you different from the humans I typically encounter, I suppose that they are all reasons I like you. Rarely do I actually _enjoy_ the company of humans, or at least, for a long period of time. But with you I enjoy spending time in your presence - trying to figure you out or learn more about you. You are fascinating to me and that in itself is unbelievably refreshing." A cold hand touched the side of my face, almost tenderly, "And for those reasons, I do wish I _could_ stay, even if just for a bit longer."

"But," I began, not wanting to waste a moment of this sudden openness, sudden honesty that I had never encountered before, "you will stay tonight?"

The orange light of the flames seemed to dance across his amused face, they cast shadows throughout the room, and those same shadows danced along the walls. The air of the room warmed and the aroma of burning wood seemed to surround me. I breathed it in, inhaling deeply and filling myself with the smells of wood and fire, underlined with a scent that was unique to only Jarpr. "Yes, I will stay for tonight," he sighed.

My limbs cried for attention, they were achy and tight – no doubt from being pressed against stone walls and oak trees from the day's activities and I needed to stretch and wiggle for some comfort. Observant as ever, Jarpr noticed the small movements I made in attempt to find some relief from the ache between my shoulders and down the spine of my neck. "Let's sit on the bed, or you can lie down if you prefer and stretch."

With a grateful smile and a curt nod, I agreed and stiffly moved towards the over-sized bed. The covers were smooth and cool to the touch and with a small moan I stretched my body over the surface. My arms and legs were splayed out to my sides as I laid on my stomach and pressed my cheek to the covers. "Mmmm," I moaned as I relaxed into the yielding blankets and cushions.

Jarpr's fingers seemed to brush lightly along my spine, between my shoulders, and tickled my ribs as they traveled back up to the junction of my shoulders and neck. The tingle that followed in the wake, even dulled by the barrier of the clothing between us, seemed to awaken each nerve in my body. My teeth captured my bottom lip to keep from moaning from the absolute pleasure his touch evoked.

"I am not like you," he began, "obviously you have discerned that much information. I cannot tell you _what_ I am or where I come from, but I can tell you that I feel oddly protective of you, that I am _interested_ in you, and that I do genuinely _like_ you. I come from a family of others like me, others who are protective of humans and their affairs." Sleep began to tug at my consciousness, began to envelop me in a warm embrace and I fought to keep my eyes open, to listen to Jarpr's confession.

Yet it was a loosing battle, and perhaps Jarpr knew how tired my body and mind were, how soothing his touch was to, how calming his velvet voice was. Sleep began to pull me down and I felt the world begin to slip away. As consciousness began to drift to the edge of my awareness, I thought I heard, "You see, Highness, this is not the first time I have been to your lands."

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**A/N:** Can I just share how incredibly difficult this chapter was to write? I kept going back and forth in my head, "Is this too soon?" Originally, a large chunk of this scene was supposed to be at the end of the story. But big thanks to my dear husband who finally convinced me that yes, it seemed far more believable that someone like Izabel would eventually discover that something was quite off about Jarpr sooner rather than later.

So, do you feel like you learned anything new? Did you catch any of the clues I left you? I am not exactly the best with the whole "being subtle" thing, so you've got to let me know what is standing out to you, what grabs your attention - regardless if it seems big or small, and what questions or theories you have.

Don't worry - we will revisit Yåkov; I just felt for this conversation to happen, it would need at the very least it's own chapter. I know some of you may be slightly put off that her sisters left her so quickly, but I imagine it something like this: as loyal and protective as they are of Izabel, something inside them demanded they obey his command and get out of that room. I imagine that Jarpr CAN be very motivating when he wants to be. ;-)

The pace is going to continue to pick up until we are at an all out run, so lace up and let's head out. As always, I am on the edge of my seat waiting to hear what you think. Please please please put me out of my misery.

In other news ... I have tomorrow off and I'm hoping I can spend the whole morning writing. Fingers crossed. :)

Edited to Add: I received a message from a reader today that she had nominated me for "What's Pwning You?" over at Fictionators. Ewww! Thank you thank you! It is such an honor to have Ginnungagap submitted for consideration. If this is a story you feel hooked on, please consider making a short visit over to their website and adding the story to the list.


	18. Chapter 17: Time

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to SM.**

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That night I slept as I imagined the dead do, thick, heavy, and dreamless. It was the one night I had hoped for dreams, and the one night they did not come. If only in my sleep, I wanted a night with Jarpr; to see desire equal to mine shining from his eyes, to feel his persistent hands roaming my body, to feel him pull his body tightly against me and finally kissing me. I knew he was not mine to want and yet, I wanted him anyway.

Tis strange, in that dreamless land how one moment the world is slipping away, darkness encroaching on consciousness, and the next it is morning. The sun leaked through drawn curtains, muscles felt glued to the bed in their weight, and a strange man was seated on my bed. In those moments, when sleep is the one that falls away leaving the sleeper groggy, unclear, and disoriented to find something unexpected – that is when the heart hammers wildly within bones, blood seems to gush through veins, and sweat – regardless of temperature – pricks the skin as tiny drops appear and then roll downwards. The morning following Jarpr's disclosure was just like that, I was groggy with sleep in one moment and suddenly alert and borderline panicked in the next.

Cold palms stopped me from bolting from the bed. "Shhh, Highness, you are okay," the voice whispered. The world before me was blurry, out of focus, and as I tried to steady my breathing, I palmed my eyes, rubbed them furiously in an attempt to bring my world back in focus. As the haze cleared I could make out the details of my room, everything was in its place, the curtains were drawn and the sun spilled around the edges – everything was as it should be.

Jarpr sat next to me and my mind _wished_ everything were as it _should_ be. My imagination ran wild with the image of him here, in my bed, this early in the morn. Delightful visions of waking up in his arms, cheek pressed against his chest, curled into his side seemed to punish me. These images punished me because sometime between last night and now I had realized: I had fallen in love with my servant, with this guard or spy from another realm or wherever he was actually from. I thought of these past weeks, the past two months, since Jarpr had arrived and how my world had become so confusing since that day. The first night he came to me, I was alerted to something different about him – his touch produced the most comforting hum along my skin and I felt connected to him. So connected that I found myself longing for him, for this unknown servant from a land I had never visited - yet all the same I longed for his company.

This stranger, this man who was constantly surprising me – from besting me in the shuffle in my room, from the anger he could produce so easily to the calm and comfort his smiles and stories seemed to create. Each day would pass and I would try to push Jarpr from my mind, I would attempt to _not _enjoy the time I spent with him too much, would try to focus on my husband – the man, the king, I was _supposed_ to yearn for. And yet, as each day passed I remained smitten with Jarpr. The denial was so heavy I would convince myself of my anger, would ignore him, would avoid him – even walk away from him and dismiss him.

But I knew that I loved him - loved him as I had never loved any other man and wanted him as I had never wanted any other man. I could feel the desire, the want, crying out and demanding to be united with him. And yet, I knew I should push those feelings aside, bury them deep, stand straight and walk away from this whole potential disaster.

_A few moments longer_, my mind whispered and weak as I was, I agreed. I allowed my feelings to totally envelope me, wrap me up in their warm blanket, and pulled closer to Jarpr's body. A quiet voice of reason pleaded with me, reminded me that what I felt was _not real_, it was the allure of whatever he was, and it was not something he could control. My feelings were not something he ever could return.

Then the spell was broken, my heart tightened, and I pulled away from the body next to me. "Tell me about her," I whispered and I knew he could hear me.

"Hmmm? About who?" he replied, his arms folded behind his head. We looked quite comfortable in that moment – I was stretched out next to him, only a few inches between us as I had withdrawn from him, and he sat upright in the bed, his back touching the wooden board and arms folded behind his head, and legs stretched out alongside me. I noticed then, that his hood was down, pooled at the tops of his shoulders and revealed more of him than I had seen before. Revealed in the early morning light, I drank in his inhuman beauty. Flawless alabaster skin seemed to almost glow in contrast to the dark tunic and hood he so often wore. Tawny eyes observed me as I moved closer to his limbs, as my hands itched and jerked to run themselves through his unusual hair. A top his head sat a thick, wild, bronze colored mop. His hair looked slept in, almost a mess of tangles, but soft and clean. He caught me staring and swiftly jerked the hood back over his head and turned away for a moment.

The silence hung between us. In that moment, we both pretended that I had not been caught staring at him, basking in his other worldly beauty.

"About who?" he repeated, his voice tight now and I did not want to clarify who I meant, did not trust myself to say it properly, without sounding like a lovesick child. For a moment, I imagined myself saying it, my voice bitter, whiny, and small, _"The woman that you love, the woman you left behind but who is waiting for you. The woman you clearly spoke of when you told the love story in the stars. Who is she? Tell me about her, tell me so I can hate her with every part of my being."_

No, that would not go over well, and finally my cowardice won over and I remained silent on the matter. He sighed, "I wish you would not do that. It drives me mad to not know."

Dammit. I cleared my throat, "The one waiting for you," was all I could muster before I felt my throat constrict, before my tongue felt thick and heavy, and before the rush over emotion threatened to overwhelm me.

"The one waiting for me? Do you mean my mother? Or my sisters?"

The absurdity of his _normal _words were not lost on me, "Does your kind have families?" I asked, careful not to say "other" and "immortals" or "whatever you are" so as not to force his walls back up.

"Not really, but we make our own families," he answered. "If you did not think about a family, then whom were you referring to?" his eyebrows bunched together as he thought and I could tell he was genuinely confused.

"Um, your woman," I replied in a small voice. I busied myself fiddling with the fabric of my gown so I would not have to look into his voice, see the adoration and love there, and feel the pang of jealousy.

"Ah," he said, understanding dawning on him. "You want to know about a woman," he seemed to consider his answer before speaking, "there is no one for me at home," and I knew that discussion was over.

His answer was vague and gave me no new information. Later I would ponder over this, when I was alone and had time to think over what information I had gleamed from the previous evening.

_What will to do about Yåkov?_

The evening's discussion had been ushered in by the actions of my husband, actions that shocked me but had not surprised Jarpr. Wiggling, I moved myself into a seated position, tucked my legs beneath my bottom and straightened my back. "You were there, yesterday, when I discovered the boy," I whimpered as my mind replayed the images burned into my mind, "were you following me?"

With that one question Jarpr's carefully composed mask slipped back into place. I bit the inside of my cheek in frustration and waited patiently for his answer.

"No," he answered, then held one pale finger up in signal for me to wait a moment. He began again, "No, I did not follow you. I was already there in the hall and saw you approach. I did not want you to discover that man's deceit like that, to see that," he growled. Eyes narrowed and his voice was a low rumble in his chest, "Do not confront him about what you saw."

"How can I not?" I shot back, appalled by his reply. How could I stand by in silence with that information?

Pale, cold hands shot out from his side and gripped my shoulders, shook them, "He is not who you think," he bit out. "He has _deceived _you. You cannot trust him." As quickly as his hands had gripped me, they released me and fell to his sides.

I shook my head. Granted, yesterday had been a shock, especially in light of the conversation we had had prior; but I found it hard to believe that I had been lied to, had been deceived. "No, Yåkov is a good man. He _wants_ to be a good man, there are just things that he was taught that I disagree with,"

"No," Jarpr interrupted, his voice angry, jaw tight. "No, he is _not_ a good man, he has you fooled. A few walks and picnics, some afternoons playing games, and him telling you about his dead parents and you are so easily fooled," he scoffed. "The heart of a woman, so easily stirred," he muttered beneath his breath.

But I heard him all the same and it hurt that he thought so little of me, of my judgment. I moved away from him as the pain radiated from within. "You deceived me as well, or do you forget?" my teeth snapped together as I attempted to reign in the hurt and anger that surged beneath my skin.

Ochre eyes softened and he apologized, "I am sorry," and his hands balled into fists. "I do not want to fight with you, I'm _tired_ of fighting you. My concern is your safety and I need you to realize that the man you thought you knew is not the man that actually is. Think back, Highness; think to before you were married to him. You knew him then did you not?"

I nodded and I remembered the young man I had met on occasion, or the rumors that circulated. He was a bully, someone who ordered his attendants about, someone who shoved them, and laughed at their misfortunes; Yåkov had been someone I did not want to be alone with, someone I refused private dinners and picnics. He had been the embodiment of _later_ or _someday_; he had been someone I tolerated because of the arrangement but had always thought that I would find someone I _wanted_ to be with and that our marriage would never happen. That later, I would fall in love or find a preferred match, that someday the arrangement would fall through and I would be free of looming future with him as my husband.

Yet, later and someday had all too soon transformed into _today_ and _now_ and then I had become his wife. The wedding night flashed through my mind again – his roughness that had been explained as nervousness and eagerness, being thrown from his room explained as a misunderstanding. I recalled the eyes that bore into me as the witnesses had observed our first union, the shame that had threatened to suffocate me, had stifled my voice, had weighed down my limbs.

It was not Yåkov's fault that they had been there; it was the law, the custom, that five witnesses who could attest later that the marriage had been consummated view the union. Nonetheless, I had hated him, despised him as the white-hot anger had pulsed through my veins in the weeks following that night. As I had grown to know Yåkov, I had feared that bitterness, fear, and gossip had maligned my view of him, had unfairly prejudiced me against him. Now, Jarpr sat in front of me, encouraging me to remember my anger, my hate, my tainted vision and accept them as truth.

"Yes, I knew of him but had never spent much time with him," I admitted. "But, he seems different than before. And that does not negate the fact that you also lied to me, you intentionally deceived me and yet are making no attempts to explain yourself either. Perhaps men just lie."

"You seem to forget, _Highness,_ that I am _not_ a man." He exhaled forcefully and ripped his hood from his head, dragged his hands through the mess and tugged on the ends in frustration. "I came here to observe your kingdom, to _spy_; I never planned on becoming close enough with anyone to be noticed or to be found out. Even after I realized you were not the enemy here, I had to maintain my secret. Everything I had revealed to you, that you have noticed, that you _know_ could endanger you. I have kept things from you to _protect_ you."

Mutely I shook my head, I understood why he kept things from me but it did not lessen the fact that _he_ also deceived me. "I understand," I replied, "but just because someone keeps something from me or _deceives_ me, does not necessarily mean that they are set out to harm me. I made the mistake before of jumping to conclusions regarding Yåkov, and I refuse to do that again."

Jarpr sighed and moved from the bed, stood and paced before me, "Just think on what I said and in the meantime, exercise vigilance, and please be careful," He stopped pacing and stood before me.

I conceded and nodded my agreement. I wasn't sure where to go from here. Here, inside my chambers, we were cocooned from the outside world, from the troubles and worries that seemed to surround us. Here, I felt safe and I never ever wanted to leave that warm embrace. Standing, I walked to the dresser and pulled a clean dress from the drawers. Jarpr nodded to me and I knew our conversation had come to a close. He pulled his hood back over his head, exited silently, and left me alone with my thoughts.

Nada was the only sister who said anything to me in regards to Jarpr's actions the previous night. Rightly so, she was concerned and curious about the stranger. She wanted to know what he had wanted, what we had discussed, and whether she should continue to spy on him. I had instructed her to continue to spy on him, but to be extremely cautious.

_He already knows that we are spying on him_.

How much did he know? During our conversation, he had confessed he had not been following _me_ the previous day, but rather had been watching Yåkov. Could he possibly be aware of every movement in the palace? Could he know if I continued to spy on him? I wanted to know what he was hiding from me – what he was, why he was here, and what he planned to do.

"_Do not trust me and do not get in my way."_

Yes, his words implied a plan that was in place, a plan that he would protect even from me.

Time – I realized from his unspoken words, that he wanted time; he had made mention that he would be leaving soon but had given no indication as to when he would depart. Did he plan to carry out his plan before he left? If so, what was that plan exactly? Would he kill Yåkov as he had once been prepared to kill me? How would he escape? Was he powerful enough to kill a King or Queen and simply walk away unscathed?

An impending doom seemed to hover over my head and I felt a shiver pass through me. I wanted to spend more time with those I loved and cared for; wanted to spend every night training with Leif in hopes of being prepared to stand against the approaching storm; wanted to laugh with my sisters and race through the forest so I could relive those memories and find strength in them if needed; and my secret desires were to spend the long nights in my bed with my arms wrapped around Jarpr.

No longer did I worry that Tyr was my enemy, I did not even know if that is where Jarpr had come from. Now I worried that my enemy was silent, invisible, immortal, and as such – unbeatable. My enemy was time.

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**A/N:** My way of apologizing for delayed updates are a few frequent updates, so I do hope you'll accept my apology. I may possibly get one more in before next week, then I will do my very best to stick to one update a week instead of several a week. ;-)

History Tidbit: I forgot to mention this last chapter, but vampires are not actually commonplace in Viking lore. In fact, things that were considered vampires were more like ghouls or ghosts and no mentions were really made of them consuming blood. So when Jarpr said that there were no stories in the land about him, it was actually historically accurate.

Also, a big thank you to a reader who submitted _Ginnungagap _to the Fictionators for "What's Pwning You". If you find yourself excited for updates, please consider voting for me.

Did you catch any new clues? What are the current theories? Reviewers will receive a full chapter from Jarpr's POV no later than next Saturday - just make sure you have an email address connected with your account so you receive it. :)


	19. Chapter 18: Distractions

**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to SM.**

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It was afternoon and the clouds threatened to overtake the sun. Large clouds rolled in and blanketed the palace in a cold shadow. Not yet prepared to face Yåkov, I had donned a pale blue tunic that flowed shapelessly to my ankles and wrists, braided my hair, and covered the crown of my head with an olive colored wrap.

The palace felt cramped and I wanted to get away; not yet ready to face Yåkov, the boy, Leif, my sisters, or Jarpr – I just needed time to think and sort things in my mind. So I left, dressed in peasant garments with a covered head, and left the palace before midday. The village outside the palace had been busy, but quiet as I passed through the streets and made my way to the temple that lay just beyond it's borders.

A dirt path lay between the village and the temple; the road wove over hills and skirted the outlaying forest. Thick foliage the lined the pathway was thick with tall trees that seemed to almost block the sun. The temple was pilskudd away and I had some time to think as I walked along the darkening vei. As my feet shuffled up the hill, I could make out the temple looming in the distance and sighed in relief.

Cold winds blew; the covering on my head whipped around my cheeks and my fingers clutched the material to me. Loose dirt from the vei flew about my feet as I stood in the center and waited for the gust to pass. When it did, every nerve in my body came alive, my skin hummed, and blood rushed through my ears. _He_ was here, and he was following me. Eyes scanned the tree line and even though I knew I would not see him unless he wanted me to, I continued to seek him out.

Nothing.

"I would like some time alone, to think," the wind seemed to swallow my words and for a moment, I thought perhaps he had failed to hear my words. Nerves quieted, blood slowed, and I knew he had departed. With a sigh, I continued my shuffle towards the building at the bottom of the hill.

The temple, crafted of dark wood stained the color of the night sky, was seated under a massive tree with wide reaching branches. It was rumored that the tree was magical, as it remained an evergreen throughout the entire year. To each side were large hills that would cast shadows into the valley despite the sun's location in the sky. A thin gold chain glinted from the crow stepped gable roof tops. As I approached the yawning entrance, I took in the three statues of the gods that sat in large thrones, like guardians near the front steps. Wodan, the God of War, sat to the left with a stone raven on his shoulder and dressed in a heavy armor. Fricco, the god of pleasure and happiness, sat in a throne to the right and was dressed in only a robe, hand at a sword secured to his waist, and chest bare. In the center was the protector of mankind – ρórr in his throne he sat with eyes that looked straight ahead. Of the three gods, it was ρórr, who impacted me the most, although he was made of stone, he looked the most human of the three. His stone hair hung past his shoulders and he wore simple clothing: a tunic, trousers, and cloak. Had I passed this god on the street, dressed as he was depicted, I would have continued walking and never taken notice of him.

It did not escape me that I had traveled to this temple, to speak to the gods, when a god may be in the castle. In fact I _had_ walked past an immortal for two months and had just only taken notice of his otherness.

The grove of trees next to the temple at the foot of the tallest hill was still stained with blood and I realized that numerous sacrifices had been made recently. Sacrifices were only offered to bless a new marriage, in times of war or famine, or for a festival. The bed of large stones in the center of the grove looked soaked with blood, dark splotches seemed to drip down the sides, and even the grass that bordered the rocks were darkened with dried blood.

Father had taught me about sacrifices made to the gods, had taught me the importance behind the obedience to those more powerful than man. I had attended the communal festival when I was on the cusp of womanhood and even though Father had prepared me for the acts that only occurred every nine years, I was appalled nonetheless. Nine males – one for every year between festivals - of every kind of living creature had been sacrificed and hung from the wide branches of the grove trees. The massive evergreen that seemed to almost frame the temple itself held one of every sacrifice from its branches. Blood splattered the ground in thick, wet drops as the life essence of those offered to the gods pooled below. Empty, glazed eyes stared unblinking back to my younger self. Chills passed through me, not at the lifeless animals that swung from the trees, but the corpses of nine males, each one killed during the nine days of the festival, ranging in ages that swung alongside the animals. A total of seventy-two corpses would swing in these trees during the equinox and create a foul, almost overpowering, stench of death that would blanket the valley.

In an effort to scrub the images from my mind I had avoided this temple since that day, offering sacrifices when needed, but never personally traveling to the temple. Something inside me rejected the need to kill so many, even if only once every nine years. Jarpr did not _seem_ to be a bloodthirsty god, one only appeased through the death of others. Yet my mind whispered to me that he had killed – had _murdered_ seven men. A comfortable face flashed in my mind and I recalled that he had appeared the most at ease discussing the deaths of the guards he had taken than any other aspect of our conversation. Perhaps he _was_ a blood hungry god; perhaps I did not know him as well as I thought.

Stories milled about from village to village of Odin and other gods who would take human form, even spending whole seasons with humans and never being suspected as an immortal. These gods could change everything about themselves, why should Jarpr be any different? Why should this immortal, this powerful being allow me to _really_ know him?

Remorse, squirming, and guilt – none of these had been evident in Jarpr's handsome, perfect face. Blood and death apparently did not bother him.

However, I was prepared to kill those same men. The advantage Jarpr held was that he somehow _knew_ who they were, while I was always a step behind in my attempts to discover their identity. Had I known who they were, would I have killed them? Would I squirm under the weight of remorse or guilt or would I, like Jarpr, be comfortable with the discussion? Would I feel justified with their blood smeared on my hands?

The answer was unknown, while I had spent my childhood training to hunt and defend myself if needed, I had never actually killed a person. To see a lifeless body at my feet, face contorted in pain, blood pooled about the limbs, mouth hung open – to _know_ that I had ended someone's life was beyond my understanding. All too clearly I remembered the anger that had fueled my actions that night when Jarpr pulled me from the guards' longhouses. The pureness of the rage, the focus only on revenge and ending the men who had committed crimes against Jane had propelled me forward. The evening had not ended with the corpses of those men; it had ended with me returning to my chambers – embarrassed, angry, and suspicious.

Had Jane not been retrieved and allowed rest in my chambers, her fate would have been vastly different. For impersonating a man, she could have at worst been killed or what would have been considered a mercy, sent back to her village where no doubt she would have been killed. Either option resulted in her death. Neither a freewoman nor a slave, but rather a volunteer indebted to the guard, she would not have been considered a victim under the court. Had she even been able to identify her attackers, they most likely would have been remained free and unscathed.

No, there would have been no justice for Jane.

It was a comfort that Jarpr had given her the justice.

Inhaling deeply I moved up the steps of the temple and through the widely framed doors. Thick, strong pillars supported arches that formed a small aisle through the center of the room. To the sides were long benches that made up a handful of rows. To the front of the room was a large hearth with a fire that crackled behind the stones. Along each wall was a door that led away from the main area. Above the edging of each door were carvings, the door to the left a raven was carved above the frame, to the right massive antlers were carved, and in the back center a mace was traced into the wall. Each symbol represented the gods of this temple and each god had their priest who would offer sacrifices and prayers on behalf of the people to the god they served.

My head inclined to the side as I attempted to hear the shuffling of feet or any other telltale signs of life in this temple of death, and yet heard none. A chill passed through my spine and I waffled in the entryway.

Thunderclouds that had only been hinted at earlier, now rolled over the temple, loomed over the village and palace, and cast a dark shadow across the land. The wind picked up again, the trees that had only swayed earlier now seemed to dance violently under the shadow of the clouds. I shivered and step back into the temple as I watched fat raindrops start fall in rapid succession as the bowels of the sky began to empty.

_Crash._

Lightening split the sky in its brilliance and the loud boom of thunder slapped against the land. I jumped in surprise at the sound and backed further into the seemingly empty temple.

Slowly I meandered over to the bench nearest the fire and sat. The storm allowed me time to think and consider all the information I had learned.

Jarpr was a god, an immortal – someone who had come to my lands to spy and decide if – what? What would be the outcome of his visit? I knew he had arrived prepared to kill me if need be, but would he kill another before he left? And where had he come from? He was not from Tyr, that had been a lie, a cover, something to distract me. Were the gods watching the land? Were they displeased with what they saw? Had Jarpr been sent to take corrective measures, whatever those might entail?

I imagined Jarpr walking silently through the castle, with a sword at his side and calmly murdering every human he came in contact with; eyes that glowed in the darkness with the blood of his victims, a blade the dripped loudly against the stone floor, and a smile that chilled me.

No. It was probable that Jarpr _could_ kill everyone, that any god _could_ kill every human in a castle without difficulty, but I did not think he _would_ kill innocent beings.

_He would kill Yåkov._

That small voice whispered to me that Jarpr would find little trouble murdering my husband. As fair as I felt Jarpr was, I still felt uncomfortable with his description of Yåkov. Words rang through my mind – _liar, deceiver, _and _bad._

Was Yåkov bad? Had he totally fooled me? Conflicting images of the man flitted through my memories; tender and happy then an angry bully. Was either of these perceptions real? I had to know and never could I really know the truth unless I confronted him about I had seen.

From an early age my father had sought to instill wisdom in me, to think before acting, to consider the consequences however far reaching or short lived, and I knew that I had to be cautious with my approach. Forceful, angry accusations would only serve to irritate the situation; my approach should be thoughtful and subtle.

Various encounters played out in my mind as I considered potential responses, each situation seemed to end worse than the last. Finally, an approach came to me and the chances of success were far greater than any other.

Rain beat the earth outside the temple without any sign of slowing. Somehow I knew that if I called to Jarpr, he would appear to me, would see me safely home. Yet as I watched the fat drops wash down the paths and the rocks and the trees, I felt an overwhelming need to also be washed in the cleansing downpour.

I stood and walked to the frame, then stepped outside. Water soaked through my covering, my clothes almost immediately and I could feel fabric stick to my skin. Placing one foot in front of the other I began the slow return journey to the palace.

The time for thinking had come to an end, now it was time to take action.

A darkened sky waited for me when I returned home, the land surrounding the palace and village lit only by torches. Flickering lights of orange and blue rose up and reached towards the sky. Clothes and boots soaked through from the storm clung to my skin, molded to every curve and dip as I walked slowly back towards my chambers. It was shortly after nightfall, perhaps time for the evening meal or perhaps it had already passed, and I wanted to see Yåkov immediately. However I needed to change my attire, to dry my wet braid, and make myself presentable.

I busied myself with the imaginings of my mind on how I would confront Yåkov. Obviously it would be best if Jarpr were otherwise distracted so he would not interfere. But how best to distract him so he would not see through the pretense? The man was uncomfortably perceptive and seemed able to know the intentions of those around him easily. Yes, I would have to involve someone, but without his or her knowledge of what I planned – either the intention to approach the King or to distract the man everyone knew as my servant.

My mind raced with possibilities; request Leif to make amends with Jarpr, to discuss whatever bothered one with the other until they were at the very least respectable towards one another; request Jarpr to fetch a forgotten item from the temple – surely that would purchase the needed allotment of time. _No._

_Nada._

Sister, friend, and confidant - she would be able to approach Jarpr. Neither intimidated or on bad terms with him, she would be the most likely to distract him. Yet what would I request? Nada knew almost everything I knew about Jarpr, save his immortality, his _otherness_. The meeting would need to be something I could easily plant in her mind, but not be a direct favor that I asked of her. Fierce protectiveness drove most of her actions in regards to me, and I knew that if I could trigger that emotion she would be moved to some sort of forward motion.

_Tell her you want to know what Jarpr's intentions are; you need to know his plan. _

Yes, that would work. If I expressed an interest, an earnest interest in his plans, his intentions she would want nothing more than to discover that information. In honesty, I was very curious to what his plans would be and I could easily convey that genuine interest to my sister. I could see the conversation play out, could envision his ability to read her sincerity. Yet, would he suspect that I would be otherwise involved?

No. For some reason, he seemed to have the most difficulty reading me, in understanding me, and had taken greater measures to know me than any other person in the castle. Perhaps I flattered myself that he found me interesting, and rather he found me as a puzzle that only caught his attention because of the inability to immediately read me. Immediately I dismissed the notion, he was interested in me, had taken more time with me, simply because I was the Queen, a ruler in the land, and had to ascertain whether I was a threat or not. Beyond that, there would have been no interest, no reason to further investigate or engage me.

I entered my chambers and found Nada busy in the seating room; she had prepared a tray of food for me and was in the middle of laying the contents on a nearby table. She spied me upon entering and rose quickly, "Izabel, you are soaked!"

A hum began then, at the mention of my name, it was faint – as though there were some distance between Jarpr and myself. I knew I had to act quickly for my plan to work. "Yes, I was caught in the rain. I need to speak with you, come to my room and help my change."

Confused she nodded slowly and trailed behind me as I walked from the center room to my bedchamber and quickly closed the door. Quickly I walked to the dresser where I pulled a gown from the doors and began to strip the cold clothing from my limbs. In a whispered tone I began speaking to Nada, "I took time to reflect at the temple," I began, "and I decided I need to know what Jarpr's intentions are. Nada, I need to know what his intentions are – for me, for the kingdom – what does he intend to report? Yet, I know not how to approach him or even what to ask," a hopefully distressed laugh manically left my lips, "or even if he will tell me. How am I to protect my people, my kingdom if I do not know? My Father would expect nothing less from me, my people deserve no less, but I just am at a loss."

The soggy gown fell to the flow with a seemingly loud _flop_ sound as it met the stoned floor. "You are my closest sister and dearest friend, what do you advise?" As if nervous, I wrung my hands together before reaching for the dry garment. Then with a deep sigh, I pulled the dress over my head and shoved my arms through the openings. The cloth was soft and warm, a much needed relief from the previous cold fabric.

I dared a glance at Nada then, to take in her expression, measure her reaction. It was as I had envisioned – her brows were knitted tightly in concentration, her eyes held a determination in them that I had seen so often following my wedding. Already I knew, she had believed me, felt the stirring of protectiveness, and would confront Jarpr, as I desired her to do.

The hum had drawn closer, louder against my skin, to the point of distraction.

"Rest," came her soft reply. Her eyes were concerned and she placed a hand on my shoulder, "rest. I will think on this tonight and will return with an answer in the morn."

I nodded my head, as if in agreement and forced my body to move slowly towards my bed. As my feet shuffled across the floor, I empathized with Jarpr who had explained only earlier that same day how frustrating moving so purposely slow could be. Inside my chest, my heart beat wildly as I anticipated the upcoming discussion, the questions, and the demands for answers. Without a doubt, I knew she would be safe. I crawled into the bed and allowed my body to sink onto my side, allowed my heavy limbs to mold themselves to the blankets beneath me.

Quietly she exited the room and I could hear her anxious pacing in the sitting room. The door to the main chamber opened, and the hum increased, pulsed and throbbed to the point of total distraction. Yet I focused, I strained my hearing to access the conversation that would surely begin in hushed tones. I could only make out part of it.

"_She has returned."_ His velvet voice called to me, tugged at me, and I found myself wanting to throw my legs to the side of the bed and allow them to carry me to him. But I remained in the bed, curled on my side, waiting to hear how it would play out.

"_Yes, but she is resting now,"_ came Nada's clipped reply.

"_I want to see her,"_ the faint tapping of boots as they hit the floor sounded and I knew he was approaching my room.

"_No, she needs her rest. Besides, I would like to talk with you – away from here. I am sure she is listening even as we speak."_ Nada's voice dropped impossibly quieter as she spoke the last part, and I almost groaned in frustration.

There was a pause. A seemingly endless pause, and I could imagine Jarpr standing in front of her, still, as he considered her words. He would weigh them, think on them, and then finally decide.

"_Alright, but we will not go far._"

"_Follow me."_

I heard the sounds of their departure, the close of the door, and then they were gone. Still I remained motionless in the bed, waited for a short time longer until the hum faded away and I knew he was gone. When the hum resides I threw my legs over the bed and shuffled quickly out of the chamber. With a hurried pace, I made my way to the dining hall in search of Yåkov, but he was not there. The table at the head of the room was empty and wiped clean.

A guard rounded the corner and I called him over to me. "Sir, do you know where the King is?"

He bowed in greeting, and then bobbed his head in acknowledgement, "Yes, Your Majesty. I believe he has retired for the evening."

"Thank you," I replied and turned towards my husband's rooms. Nervousness grew in my belly as I approached, and for a moment regretted not allowing Jarpr to follow me. _Don't be a fool, he will not harm you, _I chastised myself.

With a churning belly, I walked to the doors and greeted the two guards. The each bowed to me and I acknowledged them with a downward tilt of my chain, and then indicated they should open the doors for me. Each gave the other a weary, uncertain look then returned their gazes to me. The shorter, slimmer one looked at me again before finally exhaling loudly and opening the door for me. I slipped through the opening and took in the room about me.

Yåkov's room was fashioned similarly to my own with a main sitting room and a bedchamber off to the side. However, from Yåkov's bedchamber was a passage to the tower above the rooms, a treasury where the King and his advisor would climb the stairs and make an accounting of the hock silver contained and any needs the kingdom had. From Yåkov's bedchamber I could hear strange noises – perhaps groans and heavy breathing and I worried that perhaps he had fallen ill.

Had I spent the day doubting my husband who had fallen ill? A cold sweat beaded on my skin as I considered the possibility that he could fall ill, like my father before him, and then ceases into nothing. Death had come so quickly for my father, in the space of a few days he had changed from a vibrant man, to a bedridden ill man, to finally a cold corpse, no longer a man. Panic swelled within me and I ran the few steps from the entrance to his rooms and pushed heavily against his bedchamber door.

From the open doors, I could see Yåkov's naked back, muscles bunched, shoulder blades straining against the skin as the bare skin of buttocks seem to tighten and release in the rhythm of his hips. Beneath him, equally as naked, was a concubine I recognized, her long legs wrapped about my husband's waist as he buried himself in her again and again. Moans – his and hers – filled the air along the pungent smell of their coupling. Bile rose from my stomach, burned my throat and the nostrils as I struggled to keep it down. It was the woman who saw me first, who attempted to avert my staring gaze, and it was her distraction by me that captured Yåkov's attention. He stopped, buried inside her, and turned over his shoulder to look at me.

"By gods," he whispered, then withdrew from the woman, tossed the blanket over her naked form, and pulled his trousers on. I spun on my heel and exited the room.

I thought he was going to stop sleeping with them while we worked on developing a relationship. It was acceptable that he be with them, but some part of me hurt, shattered as I saw him with another woman. The only claim I had on him was through our marriage, and I knew that I had been unwilling to return to our martial bed, that men had needs, and that he had been exceedingly patient with me, with my refusals. But a part of me had been delighted that he had been _willing_ to wait for me to be ready to allow him to bed me again.

Except that he had not waited.

"Izabel," came his voice.

"I'm sorry," were the first words that blurted from my lips. I was shocked, hurt, and angry even – but was I really sorry? What was I sorry for? "I did not mean to interrupt," I continued and averted my eyes from his naked chest.

His arms encircled me then, turned me to face him, and pulled me closer. "I'm sorry wife, I should have discussed this decision with you before. I know you're not ready for that yet, and needed some kind of release." Soft lips kissed the tip of my nose in apology and he gently squeezed me in his gentle embrace.

I nodded in understanding – this was not what I had come here to discuss and would think this discovery over at a later time. I wanted to move forward, discuss what I had come here for, and leave this chamber with the naked woman in my husband's bed.

"I came to talk to you. Could you spare a few moments?" My head remained tucked to my chest, to avoid his gaze, and appear subservient to him.

"Of course my darling, what is it?"

"I had wanted to check in on that boy from the other day. Do you know where he is?"

The arms around me stiffened, the body pressed against mine stiffened, and inside my mind I chanted one thing over and over.

_Let him be okay. _

Did I want the boy to be all right or my husband?

Yåkov inhaled deeply and shifted from foot to foot before he answered me, "I have something to confess Izabel," he began, his voice vibrating in his chest. "Well, I hit the boy – again." The strong cadence of his voice dropped then, broke, and he continued, "I did not mean to, but I lost my temper. I felt terrible about it. So I had him taken care of by my personal attendant."

The man before me had surprised me, confessed to striking the boy, and in that moment found myself doubting Jarpr's words, his warnings. But something felt wrong, off about the situation and I carefully filed it away to consider after leaving the room. "Thank you for telling me, you cannot imagine what that means to me," I answered him, "I will return to my chambers now. Good night husband." Stretching my legs, I pulled myself up onto the balls of my feet and kissed his cheek in parting.

I slipped from his embrace and turned back to the doors. As I exited the doors, I heard Yåkov re-enter his room and walked quickly away so as not to hear the moaning begin again.

When I returned to my chambers, neither Nada nor Jarpr were there. My sisters were lying in their beds, whispering to one another as they slowly, one by one, began to drift off to sleep. The hum along my skin seem to vibrate as I prepared for bed; I slipped the gown from my body and replaced it with a dressing gown, pulled my still slightly damp hair from my braid and pulled my comb through it, and then slipped beneath the sheets.

It was then that I realized that I was not alone. A very angry Jarpr sat on the end of my bed.

"Why," he hissed, "do you smell like Yåkov and sex?"

* * *

**A/N:** I want to start off by saying THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed _Ginnungagap_. I appreciate all the feedback you all leave - the good, the bad, and the ugly. Now onto my forever long author's notes.

**History:** I actually used a lot of historical facts for this chapter and wanted to point out some information for you.

- pilskudd is the Norse measurement for distance. At this time, there were not miles - there were feet (fot) but traveling distance was measured by how long it took to arrive or by pilskudd which was the distance a war arrow could shoot. After some research I found the war arrows typically flew about 500 yards or more. The temple was not meant to be a long distance away, far enough that it is somewhat secluded but close enough for travel from the village.

- vei: Road

The temple I described was an actual temple. It's location, ironically is actually where my Tyr kingdom is located. Yes, I'm a nerd and printed out a map of the area, researched how long it took to walk from one end to the other, and then wrote and drew over the map "Dagez" and "Tyr". ;-)

- Wodan is another name for the Norse god Odin and porr is Thor. It was customary for each god to have their own priest who performed sacrifices to them alone and would mediate between the people and the god they served. Each symbol over the doors is commonly used to represent those particular gods. And Wodan, Thor, and Fricco are typically the statues that are placed in the front of the temple.

- Communal Festival was held every nine years for the Spring Equinox and yes, 72 corpses did hang from the grove. Every day for nine days, two male animals and one human male were sacrificed and their corpses hung from the trees until all 72 males had been killed.

Okay I believe that's all the history I covered this chapter. :) I know there's been a lot of reviews that really question why Izabel would not immediately believe Jarpr regarding Yåkov. I do want to point out that Yåkov has made an impression with Izabel, and she is reluctant to just change her mind about him without all the facts involved. Loyalty and honor were values that were hardwired into every Norse man and woman, so to simply turn one's back on one's spouse with such little (as would have been perceived in this period) provocation would be disloyal. So give her a break, because honestly we don't really know what's going on with him either. ;-)

Anyone catch any other clues I left for you? Did everyone catch the clue from last chapter?

**Edited to add: **This chapter was originally written completely different. In fact, in this chapter Jarpr actually followed Izabel to the temple and had a long conversation with her. However, it didn't feel quite right for the chapter and the flow of the story. Perhaps it'll get moved to later in the story or perhaps I'll assemble some out takes. Since I've never worked on out takes before, I'm interested if anyone would be interested in reading them. If so, let me know.


	20. Chapter 19: He Knows

**Disclaimer: **SM owns Twilight and the characters, but the plot and original characters are all mine. ;)

* * *

My body froze at the angry words, and in the moonlight I could make out Jarpr's hoodless head—his hair messy and almost as wild as his dark eyes and tense shoulders. "I will repeat, _Your Highness_, why do you reek of your husband and sex?"

"I went to him," I replied as calmly as possible. Only one other night had I heard Jarpr's voice sound so filled with rage: it was the night when he had truly frightened me. He had hovered above me and held my body beneath his as I struggled in an attempt to be free. It was that night, when my anger had reached a boiling point, that I had stalked the guards' longhouses with the sole purpose to murder those who had violated Jane.

Tonight, though, I was not afraid that Jarpr would harm me. The manner in which he tensely held his body, the growl of his voice—though that _did_ frighten me, I could not pinpoint why exactly I was afraid.

Pain marred his beautiful features as his face before me transformed from one of anger to that of agony. "I see," he replied, his voice still tight but now small.

As quickly as the pain had appeared on his face, it flickered and was gone, replaced again by the rage that lay just beneath. Cold hands gripped my shoulders as I sat before him in my bed, and I suspected he very much would like to shake me.

"No," he paused, "no, you cannot go to him anymore. You are," he seemed to consider his words carefully, as if he had been caught in a moment and attempted to rein himself in.

Fingers bit into my flesh as his grip tightened slightly. It jarred me awake and spurred my reaction. "I am what?" I snapped, angry. "I am his wife. I will go to my husband should I choose to."

"And you _chose_ to go to him? You chose to allow him to bed you? You _wanted_ to do this with him?" The grip on my shoulders loosened, but he did not release me.

"That is not your concern. I suspect that was not the reason you came to spy on me," I replied. I knew what he was asking, what he wanted to know. Yet in my anger, I could not bring myself to answer him.

Only that afternoon I had told him—or at least I suspected he was there and heard me—that I needed time to think without him. Yet not even a day had passed before he came to me in my bedchamber and demanded answers. He may be a god, but as far as I knew, he was not my god, and I would not take orders from him.

My tirade continued. "Jarpr, it has not even been a day. I asked you earlier, on the road, to please give me some space—to allow me to think things over—yet here you are. I did not summon you—did not ask for you—yet you have come all the same. I understand you are probably used to certain deference from mortals, but you will not receive that from me. I am not afraid of you."

_I am afraid of my feelings for you. I am afraid of the confusion you bring me._

A dark chuckle echoed in the night, and his fingers drifted up and down the bare skin of my arms. Goosebumps rose along my skin as his fingers passed, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. How easily I was affected by such small actions! Jarpr dared me. "I see, and you do not fear that I could bend you to my will? Make you obey me?"

"No, something tells me that the gods respect agency." Though to be truthful, the thought had never entered my mind that he _could _or that he even _would_ do such a thing. A shudder passed through me as I imagined myself: eyes blank, limbs being moved in accordance to his will like a puppet, and invisible cords pulling me forward and yanking me backwards.

Though I was still unsure of Yåkov—though I still doubted the man—I knew that I would bend to no man or god's will, at least not without a fight.

"If you were any other, matters would not be so complicated. But you are who you are, and with that comes certain obstacles. Tell me why you went to Yåkov; at least put my mind at ease before I go to him myself." The threat hung in the air, and everything in me wanted to fight him—to refuse to answer him. However, there were no doubts in my mind that while he may not harm me, he would have no such restraint with my husband.

_He won't_, my mind whispered, logic struggling to break free from the anxiety that gripped me. _H__e is bluffing. If he were to go to Yåkov, he would likely reveal himself, and that is not a risk he would take._

My eyes narrowed, and I stood my ground. "No. You won't go to Yåkov—what would you say to him? Would you confess your disloyalty in his kingdom? Would you reveal yourself to be a god?"

Another dark chuckle. "You assume many things, Highness. Perhaps I am something _much__ worse_—something more savage and bloodthirsty—than the gods of your people who require the slaughter of so many to pacify and please them. Call me what you must—god or demon—but know this: if I go to your husband, I will kill him. And I will do so happily. Now tell me," he growled.

No," I stubbornly answered. Firmly, I believed that he would not attack my husband, that even as something _other_ would not reveal the secret he so clearly protected. If I was honest with myself, I refused him only to be contrary, to retain some control of the situation. In his prescience, I felt out of sorts and already so very willing to impart any information to him – all he had to do was ask. Yet when he asked – so demanding and overbearing, every part of me rebelled and fought back.

Amusement danced across his frustrated, beautiful face – as if I were a silly thing that childishly denied him. I supposed my actions were childish, which only served to further incite my rebellion against him and I firmly jutted my chin out in defiance. "Then," he murmured, "I have no choice than to bend you to my will." His body, already so close to my own, inched impossibly closer. Sweet breath fanned my face, disoriented me, as the skin of his cheek brushed against me. Lips grazed the skin along my jaw and my entire body shuddered at the sensation.

"_Izabel,_" he purred. To hear my name upon his lips – not my title, was pure bliss and I felt my anger melting away. The inner protests of my mind seemed to fade away as his nearness and the musical lilt of his voice washed through my senses.

"I would have told you," I began, "had you not reacted so badly. I confronted him about the boy." Jarpr hissed, but remained quiet. "He admitted that he struck the boy again. I suppose I smell like sex because Yåkov was with someone when I entered his chamber."

"Does that bother you? That he was with someone, someone who was not you?" His voice was once again respectful and curious, even as he voiced his question. I had expected another bout of anger at my disobedience to him, but none came.

Slowly, my senses came back to me, as his spell seemed to disappear in the dark. Even as my mind began to solidify, to clear – other emotions I fully expected to feel: anger and humiliation at being so easily coerced, failed to appear. Instead, I felt only there, not quite compliant as I had been only moments before, but something else that I could not quite place.

His question, though, brought to my mind what I had hoped to put off considering. _Did_ it bother me that Yåkov had been with another woman? Concubine or not, he had been buried inside her when I had entered—had been enthralled with her body and the pleasure that she—not I—offered him. The previous weeks spent with him filtered through my mind, and I remembered the sweet moments when he had held my hand, walked with me, kissed my cheeks. There should have been a pang of some emotion—anger, jealousy, hurt, betrayal, _something—_that had built and grown in the time we spent together.

Yet there was nothing.

And I had no one to blame but myself.

Too much time had been spent, especially as of late, mooning over this immortal who disguised himself as a human servant. Not enough time had been spent attempting to feed and nurture any romantic feelings towards my husband. No longer did the man repulse me; no longer did I shy away from his touch. He was just there—pleasant enough, agreeable enough—but not someone who had found his way into my heart.

"It should bother me," I admitted in the darkness to the still god next to me, "and I am somewhat bothered that it does not. I had very much hoped that I could fall in love with him, have the relationship that my parents had with one another. Perhaps I need more time for that to happen, and I cannot fault him for taking his rights with the concubine."

Anger again radiated from Jarpr's otherwise silent body. It was unexpected, and I could not fathom what I had said to stir him again. "Would it bother you to know I had been _with_ Nada while you sought out your husband?"

Did he not know that I _knew_ he had been with Nada? I had wanted her to distract him: to pull him away from the palace so I could steal away to find Yåkov. The question puzzled me, as I did not understand what reaction he intended to provoke in me.

"No, I knew Nada wished to speak with you. I heard you leave with her."

He leaned closer: his sweet breath fanned across my face, and his dark eyes peered down at me. "Yes, I understand that you knew that we left together. But if I told you I was _with _her—as your husband was with the concubine—would it evoke any reaction from you? Would it bother you that I too needed someone, that I used my rights as what I am, to have her?"

Equally, the rage and pain that immediately throbbed through my veins and pummeled my heart, blinded me. The reaction was immediately overwhelming: searing pain shot through me as if wounded, and my arms broke free of his feathered embrace to grip my sides, to hold myself together. My body wanted to collapse inwards—double over—in an attempt to ebb the pain.

"I see" was his only reply. Then, as quickly as he had made himself known, he was gone, and I was alone again—the strange pain, my only companion.

It seemed that my mind could devise the worst methods of torture for me. Prior to Jarpr's arrival, I would have thought myself capable of withstanding abundant affliction, so I was surprised when the images began to dance behind my closed eyes and trigger the slow burn associated with pain. The images taunted me: images of Jarpr's dark gaze landing on Nada's slim body, of his hands pulling her to him, his lips kissing hers. More images assaulted me—clothes left haphazardly near them, naked limbs moving together in silent rhythm, the only sound their moans and heaving breathing.

The scene changed, and this time, I was in Yåkov's bedchamber, only my husband and his concubine had been replaced with Jarpr and Nada. Like Yåkov, Jarpr was buried deep inside my sister, lost in the pleasure her body offered him. Her arms wound tightly around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deeper inside her.

Hot tears fell from my eyes as emotions raged within me—anger, shock, betrayal, hurt, jealousy—all the same emotions I should have felt as I observed Yåkov with another. The emotions throbbed through me as my mind cruelly repeated these same love scenes with Jarpr and Nada.

If I made any sounds—cries, moans, or screams—I knew not, and my room remained empty. Had he invoked this reaction, these images, with such cruel clarity into my mind to spite me? Had he done this to teach me a lesson? "Obey me or suffer." Could gods plant such thoughts and vivid images into a mortal's mind and replay them over and over until that mortal went mad?

As I lay curled on my side, my knees tucked to my chest, and my arms wrapped tightly about my middle, I cried. The only question that remained was the most alarming one: why did this hurt so much?

The answer was obvious, though I had rejected it many times over and over again. The answer was painful because nothing would ever become of it. It plagued me throughout the night as—between bouts of pain—I wondered if Jarpr was nearby, hearing my distress. I was unconditionally in love with the immortal who would never love me in return. What drew me to him was not the allure of his nature or the fascination people held for a mortal with a god, but the all-consuming love that Jarpr had spoken of the afternoon of our picnic. Darkness seemed to consume me from the inside, and in that moment, I deeply hated my weakness—my love—as my mind clouded over and gave way to the pain that continued to wash over me.

The next morning, my eyes were heavy and swollen from my jags of crying throughout the night. Despite the weariness I felt in each stiff limb, I knew that today was a day I had dedicated to action. The first step was to find the boy.

I slipped from my bed, and bare feet met with cold stone as I stood and stretched. Padding over to the dresser I removed a vibrant dress—the color of the forest during full bloom in the spring, bright and cheerful—the direst opposite of my mood. Long sleeves that reached my wrists were lined with a pale gold thread, and for a moment I was struck by how similar the color was to Jarpr's eyes. _Stop thinking about him._ I discarded my beige-colored dressing gown and pulled the happy green dress over my body.

A basin sat on a table near my dresser with a jug of water, and I poured the clear liquid into the shallow bowl. To the side of the basin lay conker soap that I lathered in my hands and then scrubbed against the delicate skin of my face. Cupping my hands, I dipped them into the liquid and splashed the cold water against my face. Nerves awakened at the shock of the chill against my skin: the droplets ran down my cheeks and neck and dripped onto the gown as I splashed my skin again and again until my face was rinsed clean.

My comb sat waiting next to the basin and soap, so I pulled its small teeth through my disheveled hair until it was smooth and free of the morning snarls and tangles. It hung down my back and past my shoulders in soft waves from the previous day's braid, so I decided to leave it loose for the day.

My fingers gripped the edge of the table as I leaned forward, took several deep breaths, and considered my situation in life: despite popular belief, royalty contained little luxury. Yes, basic human needs were met for by those in my position: one with money and power. Authority, however, came with responsibility. That was what Father had always taught me. He had always strove to instill this lesson in not only our family but in the Jarls of the kingdom. And so with that came loneliness: to always be surrounded by others—servants, guards, Jarls, and the people of the kingdom—and yet to always put their needs before your own. Fulfillment, in a sense, came from serving others.

But heartbreak apparently also came with that same responsibility. Oh, how I had longed for a marriage, a relationship similar to my parents! They truly loved and cherished one another—and I did not feel that companionship towards my husband. Impossibly, I felt it towards an immortal who had slipped into my kingdom, and over time, into my heart.

Finished dressing, I smoothed the lines of my gown and squared my shoulders. The time for reflection was over—this too would have to be stored away. Perhaps there would be time later to think over my feelings some more and move past them, but at the moment, there were other matters that required my attention.

Jarpr's voice startled me. "Sleep well?"

With a gasp, I spun and faced him. He was stretched out on my bed, in the spot my body had previously vacated, and I imagined the sheets were still warm from my body heat and soaked with my tears.

I glared at him, angry at his sudden reappearance, as if it were a deliberate rebellion of my mind in response to storing him away. Yet a small part of me rejoiced, and I struggled to silence these emotions.

"Are you not speaking to me?" he asked. The sunlight had already begun to crawl into my room by way of the large window overlooking the forest, and the light gave Jarpr a slight glow. The massive bed seemed dwarfed by his large frame as he lounged on the covers, his legs outstretched in front of him, his back pressed against the wooden headboard, and his arms casually folded behind his head. He looked at ease—comfortable even—as if the bed were his own and I was a guest in his chamber.

At the thought of his chamber and his bed, I felt my face grow warm as embarrassment and desire pulsed through my body. The apex of my thighs throbbed, and I could feel my nipples tighten. Then, the moment was lost as my mind reminded me that Nada would be far more intimately aware of the romantic details of Jarpr's chamber.

A breeze wafted through the room, and I relaxed as the disrupted air glided across my skin before I realized that it was Jarpr's movement from the bed that had created the sensation. "What are you thinking? Your emotions changed so quickly from embarrassment to yearning, and then suddenly anger."

The pads of his cold fingers brushed the skin below my cheekbones, then drifted to behind my hair, and came to rest behind my neck. Dark orbs peered back at me—pulled at me—and entreated me to confess my secrets.

The distance between our faces lessened as he moved his lips closer to mine, and I closed my eyes in anticipation of his kiss. Instead, he brushed cool lips along my jaw until they came to rest on the shell of my ear. "Tell me," he whispered.

And oh how I wanted to. My body _begged_ me to tell him. My teeth captured my bottom lip, and I bit down slowly, painfully to keep my tongue idle in my mouth. I fought to control my breathing and regain a clear head so as to not make any regrettable choices. It was a losing battle.

It was only when my lungs began to scream for air that I realized I had been holding my breath. I inhaled deeply, Jarpr's sweet scent filling my senses. An icy tongue licked the delicate, sensitive skin behind my ear, and it took every ounce of restraint to not mold my body to his. Despite my best efforts, a moan escaped my lips, and his grip tightened around me.

"I . . ." My voice was breathy and husky, and dripped with the desire flooding my body. Time stood still, the wind blew in from the window, feet shuffled in a room or hall nearby, and that damnable hum increased to a near breaking point.

We both heard the door to the main chamber swing open and thud against the stone wall at the same time. "Another time," he murmured and withdrew from me. There were no other exits or entrances to my bedchamber except through the door adjoining the main room and mine; surely Jarpr would encounter whoever had entered. However, Jarpr surprised me when he seemed to vanish: one moment in front of me, the other moment gone, and I realized that he had departed through the window.

I steadied my torn breathing and again smoothed my dress from its nonexistent wrinkles before turning back towards the main room. Opening the door between the two rooms, I walked through the archway to find Yåkov waiting for me.

"Ah, Izabel," he greeted, his voice cheerful and friendly. "I wanted to speak with you regarding the upcoming festival."

His mood was jovial—brimming with seemingly uncontainable happiness—and it was contagious. It seemed to crawl towards my body and sink into my pores, and before I knew it, the corners of my lips were pulled wide in a sincere grin.

His arm raised out towards me, beckoning me to come join him on the padded bench deeper in the room. I nodded and made my way past the curious and weary eyes of Nada and Jane.

Neither sister was aware of my most recent interactions with and observances of Jarpr and Yåkov, and even though they had heard gracious tales from me regarding both men, neither seemed to be comfortable with Yåkov's presence in my chamber. And so they lingered in the room and busied themselves with activities as I sat and talked with my husband.

"The Great Hunt is rapidly approaching, and we need to prepare," Yåkov began. "Every Jarl in the kingdom will be in attendance for the festival as well as the three-day hunt, and a portion of the guard will remain behind for the kingdom's safety. I will leave today to assist the priests with the selection of a horse for the sacrifice."

I nodded, familiar with the tasks required to prepare the festival we hosted in the palace. There were many feasts that we hosted in observance of our gods and the sacrifices that followed, and as such, it was expected that the King and Queen be involved in the preparations. "Father had me assist with the feast preparations. Gather the mead and ale."

Yåkov nodded—an excited movement—as his head bobbed rapidly up and down. "This is my favorite feast," he shared. "The Great Hunt that followed was a special occasion for my father and me." His voice lowered for a moment, and his eyes darted to mine. "I imagine it was special for you and your father as well."

Delicately, I placed my hand upon his shoulder, both in comfort and reassurance. "It is alright. I know that my parents are together in the afterlife, happy." I smiled brightly at him, in hopes of conveying the sincerity of my words. "Will you be alright? This will be _your_ first Hunt without your father, too."

"Yes," he replied, cheerful yet again. "I have resigned myself to the same thoughts: that my father is happy now outside the realm of men. I imagine he is already giving instruction to the goddess of that realm on how to better improve something or the other."

We both laughed—deep, belly laughs that shook our frames as we imagined our respective parents in death. I imagined my parents with their arms linked and standing side by side, happy together; and though I disliked Yåkov's father, I imagined him: tall and proper standing next to Hal, beautiful goddess that she was, and instructing her on improvements needed for her realm.

Yåkov's hands reached up from our mirrored positions and cupped my cheeks. Uncertainty clouded his mind and sobered the previous cheerful mood. "I will return this evening, and in a few days time, we will celebrate the feast together." Eyes burned into mine, and I shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

Then he leaned down, his intention clear. Gentle kisses on my cheeks and hand had been offered, but kisses on my mouth were rare. This kiss would be lip to lip, sharing breath with one another, inhaling the other's essence as we moved against the other.

For the first time in long time, my stomach churned at the prospect of his mouth upon my own while my other instincts screamed for me to kiss him and compare the reactions of my body to his touch, his kiss to those of Jarpr.

_Nothing can ever happen with Jarpr._ My mind cruelly reminded me of the fact, and I wanted to cringe inside myself.

Taking the initiative, I moved myself forward and touched my lips to his. Eagerly he responded, pushing lightly at first and then harder against my lips. Yåkov parted his mouth, and his tongue flicked out to slowly run along the closed seam of my own mouth. His teeth captured my bottom lip, and he gently sucked, his hands circling my waist and pulling me closer. "Izabel," he groaned against my skin. The sound of my name spoken on his lips, thick with the sound of his desire for me, failed to affect me in the same manner it had with Jarpr. No stirring in my body, no excitement, no want or desire seemed to build or pulse through me. Furious and determined, I pushed myself deeper into the kiss, willing my body and my heart to respond. Bargaining with myself that if I felt even a fraction of the reaction experienced with Jarpr during this kiss with Yåkov, that I would abandon the madness that consumed me since my servant's arrival.

Oblivious to my sisters' hasty departure, I failed to sense the approach of Jarpr returning to my chamber. Indeed, every part of me was fully present in this kiss—this exploration, this test—to measure whether I could ever respond to my own husband the way I responded to the man I so desperately wanted.

Jarpr's dark eyes seemed to infiltrate my mind and fill my vision, and the memory of his body pressed so close to mine flooded my senses. I felt alive and wanton, and moaned my pleasure. Of course, Yåkov misunderstood and thought that this response meant I wanted him. He pushed me backwards and downwards towards the cushioned surface of the bench. My body, like jelly from the desire that coursed through me and throbbed between my legs, complied with the silent command.

Wet kisses pressed against my neck and the bared skin above my dress. When his hips rotated forward, his hardness pressed against my thigh, and I realized the direction this encounter was taking and that I needed to stop. I pushed against Yåkov's chest and whispered from numb lips, "I am not ready."

He ignored me.

"Yåkov," I said, stronger this time, and he paused to look up from my bosom to peer at me, "I am not ready."

His eyes were glazed over with lust as they traveled from the rise and fall of my chest to my pink, swollen lips. "I have waited for you, my wife. Please, try with me. Try again." His voice was pleading and guttural, and again he pressed his hardness to my thigh.

Fear began to take hold and seemed to numb my limbs and tighten my throat. Blood pumped furiously through my veins as I recalled our wedding night again.

_Get out of my head!_ Yåkov was not that man—that demanding man—with whom I had been on our wedding night. This time, Yåkov would stop because I asked him to stop, but it did not mean that he would _want_ to stop. The hardness that seemed to throb hotly against my thigh, searing the skin through the fabric of my gown, was proof that he wanted to keep going. But I had to work beyond those wretched memories and fully trust my husband, because at some point—I would have to lay with him again.

My silence was understood as acceptance, though, and Yåkov returned to kissing the skin above my bodice and busied his hands with trying to loosen the ties of my gown. "No," I said again. "Please, Yåkov." Again I pushed against him; again the fear seemed to suffocate me as at first he failed to respond.

Then, through the chaos of my mind, the deafening roars of my blood as it rushed through my body, and the breath onto which I desperately attempted to hang—the hum broke through. It was insistent, refusing to be ignored any further, and I knew that Jarpr was near. How near, I was unsure, as it felt as though he were in the empty room with me.

And apparently he was.

"Your Highness." A cold, hard voice commanded our attention.

Yåkov groaned, and without moving from me, turned to face the servant who had addressed him. Yåkov's lips were curled downwards, and his anger was visible on his face as he acknowledged Jarpr.

"Now is not a good time," he hissed back at Jarpr. Then, as if he could successfully ignore the immortal who dominated the space of my seating area, he returned his soured gaze back to me, pulled me closer, and began to return his lips to mine.

"I insist," Jarpr growled out, interrupting Yåkov once again. Although I knew my husband could not harm Jarpr, I was suddenly afraid. I recalled what had happened the last time we were interrupted: the slap of the boy's face and the swollen, red mark on the boy's cheek.

_What is he doing?!_ My mind screamed at him and begged him to depart from the room. If a confrontation ensued, Jarpr's nature would be revealed, and surely he would have to leave the realm—I would never see him again. The thought of him forever gone, never to touch me again, seemed to rip through my body.

"Jarpr," I faltered and steadied my voice, "Please go."

_Please go, leave us. Do not anger the King. Do not endanger your position here. _

_Do not do what cannot be undone. _

I imagined the conflict playing out before me, conflict that would reveal Jarpr's nature, which would force his hand, and would result in his swift, immediate departure from the realm.

Gone.

Forever.

Jarpr's black gaze settled on me beneath Yåkov's body – my dress had shifted, the ties of my bodice were loosened, and the skin of my breasts seemed far too exposed. Above me, Yåkov pressed against me, his hands pressed tightly against my skin. Had the roles been reversed, it would have destroyed me to see Jarpr in such a position with another. It appeared from the darkness of his eyes that it bothered him as well.

"Yes, servant. _Leave._" Yåkov's voice was thick with anger that I could roll from his tense form above me.

_Stop this!_

Swallowing the bile that rose in my throat, I shifted below Yåkov in an attempt to recapture his attention, and the deliberately pulled his lips back to my own.

_Please forgive me._

Jarpr growled loudly, forced Yåkov's lips from mine as he moved from me. Rage boiled beneath him cold exterior as he stood. "How dare you defy me," he began.

_Gods! It's going to happen!_

Tense and still, I knew that Jarpr barely controlled himself. Any moves made by my husband would surely set him off, would set into motion the chain of events I so desperately wanted to avoid.

"Yåkov," I pleaded and reached for his fisted hands at his side. He turned to look at me, took in my frightened face, and realization seemed to dawn. Perhaps he did not fully understand that I pleaded with him to protect _him_, not Jarpr, as only I knew he stood no chance against the lethal immortal mere feet away.

"Release me wife," he ground out.

"No," I replied, fear stilling me, robbing me of rational thought. "Please Yåkov, ignore him. Let us retire, to my bed." Yes, I would lay with my husband; willingly give him what he wanted to protect the man I loved. It would be a betrayal, but one I was willing to make. In my attempts to distract my husband from his wrath, I failed to anticipate Jarpr's reaction to my words.

"The _fuck_ you will," he swore. Both Yåkov and myself turned to the god, the immortal, who looked anything but human in this moment. Stone limbs seemed to shake and tremble, lips were curled back in a terrifying snarl, and a deep growl resonated from his chest.

My husband's eyes narrowed, "For _my wife_," he emphasized, "I will allow you this one last opportunity. Leave us and while I am … _distracted,_ I will grant you a head start to return to your own kingdom. If I fail to capture you, you are free but never return to Dagez or face death. Now go, before I change my mind."

_Banished._

_He has been banished._

In that instant, I knew that I would have to face the inevitability that Jarpr would have to leave. Previously, that fear had been limited to the unknown, the idea that perhaps his departure was not today, or even tomorrow. But he would leave, I would not follow, and I would remain here with Yåkov.

Now that time had come.

He had to leave.

Today.

Now.

I felt as if something broke inside, a damn with water overflowing in a maddening rush to freedom. It seemed as if every emotion I had – known or unknown – of Jarpr, burst forth.

Agony seared every muscle, every organ contained within my flesh. So sharp and intense was the pain that I literally fell from the bench to the floor, grasped my sides, and attempted to suck in huge gulps of air. My throat tightened, and no matter how hard I tried, the air seemed thin and unable to sustain me. Spots—black, red, orange, purple—danced in my vision, and darkness seemed to encroach upon me as I struggled. My chest burned as I fought to breathe, and my arms ached as I wrapped them tighter and tighter around my body.

This is what his absence would feel like.

I had already admitted to myself that I loved him, and now my unruly body admitted another weakness: my inability to consider a future without him. The physical reaction was so severe, so intense. Without him, I was truly lost.

Cold arms surrounded me, cradled me, and held me close as they carried me to the bedchamber. I could hear my husband's voice behind me—demanding, angry. "Give her to me! Dammit I will _kill_ you!"

Yet Jarpr ignored him: he laid me gently on my bed, began to stroke my hair, and while his cool fingers connected with the flesh of my head over and over again, he hummed. It was a haunting melody, familiar but foreign at the same time. "Focus on my voice," Jarpr whispered lowly in my ear, "find your way back."

In the black void I found myself trapped in—eyes unseeing, limbs unmoving—I focused only on his voice. I listened to the notes of the song he hummed, low and deep but beautiful in their melody. Carefully I began to sift through the creations of the bards as I attempted to find a match, yet I could not find the song's equal. And as I focused—strained even—to identify the song and listen to the cadence and tenor of the melody, I found myself returning. My fingers twitched as blood seemed to rush back to them; oxygen returned to me, and my vision cleared. "Jarpr, don't leave," I murmured and knew not if it were only in my mind or had been spoken aloud.

Two faces came into sight then. The nearest was Jarpr, who was crouched at my bedside, hovering by my head to caress my hair. The other was Yåkov, slightly further away—standing with an angry grimace on his face. Without a parting word, Yåkov turned swiftly and exited the room. The loud banging of the heavy doors announced his departure from the chamber.

Vainly, I attempted to keep the misery at bay. "You must go," I whispered through the ache, "you must leave or you will be revealed. He will kill you."

Jarpr nodded in agreement, but continued to stroke my hair. "I will not be far, My Queen. Do not fear for me. But please," and his eyes – no longer black but still dark amber like the ale I was to collect for the feast, bore into mine. "Stay away from him."

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**A/N:** Big huge thank you to Pastel who pre-read this whole chapter, edited and corrected it, but also helped me really shape it into a much better, smoother chapter. Her feedback was crucial to really creating such a chapter that flowed so easily. Thank you!

Thank you to everyone who has added _Ginnungagap_ to their favorites or left a review. I really love reading everyone's feedback and do my best to reply to every review. And I hope everyone who received the promised JPOV teaser from Chapter 17 reviews enjoyed. :)

**Teasers:** Last week I began submitting teasers to _The Fictionators_ and this week I added _Twilight Fic Zone_ to the list as well. Teasers are posted on Sundays (Twi Fic Zone) and Monday (Fictionators) so be sure to visit them next week for a sneak peek at Chapter 20!

**Historical:** The feast Izabel and Yåkov refer to takes place during our modern day observance of Halloween. A horse is selected for sacrifice, then afterwards cooked into a stew that everyone at the feast partakes in. Following the feast, the men - including the king - depart for three days for a great hunt. It is said, but never really proven, that this hunt is suppose to mimick the hunt of Odin and his Valkyrie warrior goddesses.

**Other Notes:** What did you think of the chapter? Did you find any more clues? If so, what do you think they were and what do you think they mean? Please hit that review button and let me know if you loved it, hated it, want more, have questions, theories - whatever. All feedback is appreciated and regardless if it's good or bad, I will do my best to respond in a speedy manner.

**Fic Recs:** Not to make my A/Ns any longer but I feel I should share some great fics that I am loving right now. _Snare_ by Raum over at FF is a great read and I highly recommend it. Not typically my kind of story, I can't seem to get enough of this one. I just finished _Unto a Heart of Stone_ by jackiejones on FF - it was one of those stories with a slow burn, but really engrosses the reader in the worlds both Edward and Bella live in. Be warned though - that story does have some upset in it, but I think it's well worth it. Let me know what you're reading and loving too!


	21. Chapter 21: Plan

**Disclaimer: **SM owns Twilight. The plot and original characters are mine. :)

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Following Yåkov's angry departure, Jarpr remained seated at the side of my bed, deep in thought, even though he had agreed to leave. I sat in silence, pondering the strange occurrence. I felt obligated to explain my intense reaction to both men, but in truth, I was deeply afraid. As much as I feared Yåkov, I feared Jarpr's rejection even more. However, I knew this back-and-forth motion—these strange interactions—had to end. One way or the other, I had to make a choice between the man beside whom I had vowed to stand, and the god with whom I had fallen in love.

My heart beat furiously in my chest as I gathered the strength to move from the bed and seek out my husband. It was only right that I discuss this matter with him first. Before I could move, though, Jarpr spoke. "I must leave now. He has sent someone to collect me," he began, and I felt the pounding of my heart suddenly falter and stop before he quickly amended, "I will take my leave from your chamber, but I will be here." Then without further explanation, he was gone.

Nada, who had apparently returned after Yåkov's retreat, timidly entered my room. "My Queen?" she asked.

I waved her to the bed and motioned for her to sit next to me. The words seemed to spill from my lips as I shared with her the conflicting emotions that warred within me, and then I was crying—sobbing—in her arms like a child. "Please," I begged, "please, follow him. And tell no one of this."

She shushed and soothed me as best she could, but knowing that timing was vital if she was to find his trail and follow, she soon departed.

And then I was alone again.

Alone with the emotions—the anger, the hurt, the jealously—and most of all, the feeling of everything spinning out of control. With the back of my hands, I wiped at my eyes and then stood.

As I entered the hall, I saw Leif approaching my chamber. His face was unreadable, seemingly a dispassionate mask as he took large strides toward me. When he reached me, he bowed at the waist. "Your Highness," he said, and then stood straight again. The dispassionate mask seemed to slip, and discomfort shone through as he struggled to speak his next words. "His Highness has departed for the temple, but he requested me to watch over you while he was away." He halted for a moment.

"Leif, I will not be angry with you over a message. What is it?"

"He said I was to collect your other servant, the one from Tyr." He looked down again, clearly uncomfortable.

I nodded in understanding. My husband's reaction was not unreasonable by any means. "I see."

We both stood in silence for a few moments while I digested the information he had brought. Prior to the sudden appearance of Jarpr and Yåkov, I had had a mission: seek out the boy. With Yåkov's absence, that was what I would set out to accomplish.

"Leif, I was wondering: do you know where His Highness would send an injured servant?"

Weariness seemed to wash over the strong features of his face. His eyes became guarded, and he hesitated with his answer. "Do you mean the boy he struck?"

"Yes! Do you know where I might find him?"

"Yes, Majesty. I took care of the boy myself."

_My husband had not lied to me._

I felt both elated by the news and also somewhat disappointed as the guilt from my feelings for Jarpr sunk into my bones. "Wonderful. Would you be so kind as to escort me to him? I would like very much to check on his wellbeing."

Leif shifted uncomfortably. "He was released just yesterday. The King wanted to make amends with the boy and sent him home with silver for his family. I do not know which region he is from."

I frowned. "Could you find out?"

He bowed again, the discomfort leaving him and eagerness taking its place. "Yes, Majesty. I will find the boy for you. But I must ask something from you."

"Of course, Leif."

"Please do not see that servant again, if he did not already flee. If he returns to you, refuse him." I tensed at the assumptive request, but before I could protest, Leif continued, "At least, please wait until after you have spoken with His Highness before you see him. He seemed so angry, and I fear what he would do if he thought I had failed." His voice trailed off, worried and abashed, as he looked downwards toward the floor. In that moment, he looked like a guilty child, ashamed at having been caught breaking some rule, and I felt exceedingly guilty at the rash anger that had flooded my senses.

"Of course, Leif," I answered. "I will inform my maidens at once that he is to be redirected elsewhere." His eyes slowly lifted toward mine, and apology and gratitude equally shone through in silent communication.

In my husband's absence, Jarpr returned—hopefully unnoticed—each night over the course of the following three days. Nada continued her attempts to shadow his movements, but would return, tired, from following Jarpr's movements about the palace. Her eyes were always downcast, as she would report nothing of interest. He would come and go on seemingly inane errands to various servants in the kitchen or throughout the grounds, including the stables. No visits were made to the guard longhouses, though, and I found myself wondering how his continued presence seemed to go unnoticed by those outside the people he visited. At the same time, no pattern emerged, and there were no duplicate visits to the same people. Quite the opposite, in fact. Jarpr would meander slowly and purposefully until he disappeared; and then he would reappear again, as if he allowed Nada to follow his movements. I suspected that whenever Nada spotted Jarpr, it was only as a result of an intentional, calculated decision from Jarpr.

When Jarpr visited me at night, he returned to our previous routine. I would disrobe and lay beneath the sheets while he massaged tight, sore limbs and told me stories of strange new gods. He spoke of creation and a Tree of Knowledge; he spoke of the serpent that tempted mankind. In all his stories, he seemed to almost forcefully avoid the issue of my husband. Obviously, now banished from the kingdom, he would have to leave. How long could he walk so freely about the palace without being caught?

It was the evening of the fourth night of his visit when he approached the topic that neither of us had addressed. "I must leave soon," he began as his fingers continued to probe the skin between my shoulders.

"I know," I answered.

"Permanently, Your Highness. My task is all but complete, and I have no reason to remain here."

Something hung in the air between us.

Was he asking me to declare myself? To give him a reason to remain?

Could I be so selfish? Beg for his continued service—no, companionship—at my side? Even if he did remain, what could be done?

There were no answers to these questions. Too long I had put off thinking of how to uncomplicate the entire situation in which I found myself, and the time had arrived for those answers.

I needed more time.

Time I could and would dedicate to solving this problem—to seeking a solution. Once, not so long ago, Jarpr had requested time from me. Could I do the same?

"Please, do not leave just yet. I know you will have to leave, but allow me some time."

I felt, rather than saw, the nod of his head. "Of course, but I cannot wait long. I will be expected to return home soon."

The night had continued in silence until I drifted to sleep with a promise to myself, a promise to visit Yåkov the next day.

I had made several attempts to see Yåkov, who steadily avoided me and outright denied my entrance to his chamber. The guard who delivered the news to me stared back at me, unapologetic, as he repeated his instructions. However, I had to speak with Yåkov—had to resolve the conflict between us. Surely his great anger had simmered and calmed, even if just a little, in the days since his return from the temple.

And so the following night, with anger and determination, I pushed past the guard and into my husband's quarters. Upon entering, I quickly identified Yåkov, seated on a bench by the tall, arching window. With a sigh, I pushed the door closed behind me, the protesting guard reminding me that I was not welcome. Steadily I walked toward my husband and sat to his side on the bench.

"Yåkov," I began, and he turned to stare at me. His eyes danced with fathomless anger and pain, and I flinched away from him. Guilt seemed to rain down on me, weigh my limbs down, and steal any words I had prepared for that moment.

"I thought I had made myself clear," he began in an emotionless voice, "that I did not want to see you." An ale cup lay next to him, and he reached for it, brought it to his lips, and swallowed deeply. "But I suppose we should talk." He laughed a dark sound that chilled me as he continued, "We are to make an appearance tomorrow evening, and we should be—at the very least, amicable toward one another." Slowly, he replaced the cup and turned fully toward me. "I," he began and then paused to clear his throat. "I had hoped we were making progress."

I nodded, wanting so very badly to give him any positive response that I could. He continued, "But when you pleaded—for _him._" A bitter laugh sounded as he recalled my plea for him to stop, my hand upon his arm that stayed his confrontation. "Then you fell and hit the floor, and I was afraid that something had happened to you. Never before had I seen someone so"—he spanned his large hands before him—"gone. You were there with me in that room one moment, and the next, you were not—just vacant and empty. And I will admit: I froze. I was so uncertain of what to do, and everything seemed to stop. I thought, in that moment, that I had lost you." Another laugh. "And what I did not know was that I had lost you already. The way he looked at you, at me—when you offered yourself to me, I knew." His voice trailed off, and he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "When he lifted you from the ground, I was enraged. A servant—a foreigner—who already seemed far too intimate with my _wife. _Yet that was not the worst of it. When you calmed so visibly from his touch, when he was able to bring you back—I realized then that something was going on. And then you spoke his name—in a manner that you have never spoken mine—and you begged him not to leave. Perhaps nothing is going on; perhaps we are making progress toward the relationship we both admitted we wanted, and maybe I just imagined it all. Tell me, Izabel: tell me I imagined what I saw. Tell me I overreacted, and I _will_ believe you. I know he remains about the grounds and that he has not left, even though I banished him. Tell me you can love _me—_that you have no interest in him—and I will send him home, with much gratitude to his King, and we will move forward. Tell me these things, _please_." His voice broke at the end, and his eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

_I'm terrible. I am a terrible person._

The man before me only wanted love from _me_, his wife—the one person in the world who should love him without condition or judgment. Yet I did not feel that way toward him.

Jarpr would leave soon, and I would remain here.

Yet my husband's words gave me pause: Yåkov said something about how the manner in which Jarpr looked at me had caught his attention. What did this mean? Was it possible that the immortal who had so steadily visited me these past few nights felt a morsel of the same attraction? Had I spent previous evenings alone, needlessly pining for him? Was it even remotely possible that Jarpr returned any of my feelings?

And with that doubt in my mind, could I try again with Yåkov?

My silence lasted too long, and the man next to me became angry and cold again. "I see." And the words echoed in my mind.

"_I see,_" Jarpr had said. What had triggered that cold response?

He had asked me how I felt about him being with Nada.

Had he lied to me? Or had he been with her, like he said?

My head throbbed as I tried desperately to remain present with my husband while my mind continued to spin with questions. Questions I had never considered. Questions that raised doubts; doubts that sparked hope—hope that would eventually lead to someone—Yåkov, myself, or both—getting hurt.

There always seemed to be more questions and never enough answers.

I snapped back to the present and focused on my husband. Inhaling deeply, I prepared to answer him. "I need some time," I began, "just to think. That is all I ask. When you return from the Hunt, we can discuss this again. Presently, I have no answers for you." Silently, I attempted to convey my apologies to him through my touch and the unhidden guilt on my face.

A large vein, like a tree root, seemed to throb in his forehead; his jaw flexed and released and repeated over and over again. Silence filled the air as we both sat, unmoving and unspeaking. Finally, reluctantly, he nodded his agreement. It seemed that for tonight, this discussion had come to a close. I stood, ready to turn and leave his chamber, when he grabbed my wrist. His eyes bore into mine. "I give you time, _Izabel_,nothing more. For now, I will not have him killed and will dismiss the guards at his quarters, but when I return, I require an answer."

_Do not betray me._

_Do not go to him._

Silent words seemed to hang in the air between us, and I understood their meaning. He had given me time to consider his words and his plea; the time was not given to me for visiting my servant. I nodded and departed, leaving in my wake my husband and a frustrated guard.

As I walked back to my chamber, I considered Yåkov's words. There was no doubt he was upset that I did not return his feelings, that perhaps I was slipping further and further away from him. Yet I knew that before I could give him an answer, before I could commit to a decision, I had to know how Jarpr felt. More importantly, I had to answer some difficult but very real questions.

_If_ Jarpr returned my feelings, what then? Would I leave Yåkov? Would I, like my husband, indulge in my own indiscretions? While this was acceptable for and even expected of him, it was not acceptable for a woman.

"Your Highness." My eyes rose to acknowledge the voice and was surprised to find a visibly upset Leif standing before me.

He sighed. "Please do not disappear again." Understanding dawned on me as I continued my walk with Leif at my side. His assignment was not only to replace Jarpr, but also to ensure that we remained separated. If I had I snuck off to meet with my servant instead of my husband, what punishment would await Leif?

Upon returning to my quarters, Leif positioned himself in an uncomfortably small chair that sat next to the only door that entered or exited my chambers. He smiled sheepishly at me as he nodded farewell. "I will be here in the morn," he explained.

"Well then," I replied, "good eve, and I will see you then." Forcing my lips into a smile, I nodded and closed the door.

I padded across the room toward my sisters' chambers. They sat talking in whispers around the hearth fire. When I entered, they each turned toward me. Each face was bathed in concern.

Sisters.

Protectors.

Confidants.

They deserved some measure of truth.

And perhaps they could impart some wisdom to guide my direction.

I sat on the bed next to Jane and sighed heavily. They waited.

And so I began my story with some omissions—those of Jarpr's immortality and my visit to the guard's longhouse. As I explained the feelings I felt toward the strange man and the tug and energy that flowed between us, they sat and listened.

No judgment seemed to pass through them, and for that I was deeply grateful.

When my story closed with the conversation between Yåkov and me and my suspicion that Leif was sent to ensure total separation, my sisters began to stir. It was Ava who spoke first. "Your Highness, it is apparent that you love this man. But even if he loves you in return, what will you do?"

Several heads nodded in agreement.

It was Nada who spoke next. "Never before have a King and Queen divorced. That is only for the people, not for their leaders."

Then Jane. "My Queen." Her voice was timid and unsure as she began. "What of your people? Please do not misunderstand: you _deserve_ to be happy, but consider the timing. You are the Queen, and this distraction pulls you further and further from the people. Have you discovered any new information regarding the taxes or if families are still losing their homes? Are the people adequately prepared, even with our help, for the oncoming winter? Were the harvests successful? It seems, Highness, that while you have been so immersed with this man, you have forgotten the people you vowed to protect." Her words stung as their truth sunk in.

I had been terribly distracted. So much so, that I had failed to continue my trainings with any regularity, failed to seek out any new information, and failed to seek out my people and their wellbeing.

"Thank you, Jane. Your words ring true, and I am ashamed of how accurate they are. Yet"—my voice broke and I steeled myself. _Do not cry again_—"What do I do?"

Peta spoke then. "That is not something we can decide for you. But know, our sister, that regardless of your choice, we stand with you and will protect you if need be."

I looked around the circle of women surrounding me; each smiled back at me in reassurance. Their love warmed my skin and my heart.

"I will retire and think on this some more."

Nada followed me to my bedchamber and closed the door behind us. "Izabel," she whispered. "What do you _want_ to do?"

"I want him," I confessed into the night air. "By the gods, how I want him. And Jane is absolutely correct in her assessment: I have failed my people and failed my position with this obsession. My father," I moaned and covered my face with my hands. I was torn between obligation and love, my people and my heart, and what I felt to be the best choice. Had I ever taken any real risks? Had I ever been truly selfless? Would I ever forgive myself if I did not seek the answers that plagued my mind?

"_Love is about sacrifice, Izabel._" My father's voice echoed in my memories. Sometime after my mother's death, he had sat me down for a serious discussion. Specifically, he wanted to explain the arrangement between the Jarl's son and me. He wanted to explain the importance and the alternatives.

"I have made a good match for you," he had begun, "because I love you. And I loved your mother—deeply. However, if there is one thing you must learn from me, it is this: love is about sacrifice, Izabel. It is about doing what is best for those you love, even if it is not what is best for you. When you are Queen, you will make many sacrifices for the love of your people, and you must make them willingly. Should you find someone else that you feel is a better match than Yåkov, I will give you leave to consider that man. However, for the love of our people and for the love of my daughter, I have matched you with the son of my most trusted adviser. It is not to elevate their position. Rather, I want to know for sure that when I pass into the afterlife, you are well looked after, that you are surrounded by both wisdom and experience, and that your match will love the people as we love them. And if you do not love Yåkov when you marry, remember that it can come with time. Your first love should always be for your kingdom and the people within it."

He expected me to make the best of my marriage—to put my people first and my own happiness second. And I had failed. Instead I mooned over a man who was not my match, raged against guards, and had openly defied, disrespected even, the King.

Nada wrapped her arms around my shoulders as my body sagged into hers. Tears threatened to spill over my lids and down my cheeks. _Be strong._

"Izabel, you have not failed anyone. You did not mean to fall in love with him, and you have every right to want the man whom you love." I opened my eyes and met her compassionate gaze. "Choose a course, and I will help you—whatever that might be."

_The feast._

My mind still lingered on my failures—still nagged and tormented me for the priorities that had been elevated to such importance. The feast was to occur the following eve; Jarls were set to arrive and the horse to be sacrificed and then cooked. The costumes had already been prepared.

Of course.

Following the festival, the men would set out on the Great Hunt and be absent for three days. How easy would it be to slip away, unnoticed, in a costume?

"Nada," I whispered, "I have an idea."

We planned well into the night, and when neither of us could contain the yawns any further, Nada retreated to the comforts of her own bed. Exhausted, yet nervous about the plan and how to get word to my servant, I remained awake. Several times I had slipped beneath the covers, closed my eyes, and attempted to sleep. Noises would capture my attention—an owl in the night, the crickets from the garden, or the wind in the trees. Then I was awake again, and would begin to pace about the room as the anxiety grew within me.

This was how Jarpr found me, and I became instantly aware that I was not alone. My body seemed to cry out with relief at his nearness, but my mind screamed warnings. And yet I could not contain the happiness in my voice as I whispered to him in the dark. "Jarpr," I sighed.

He was at my side then, watching me with bright golden eyes as he bowed at the waist. "Your Majesty. Do you not require my services tonight?"

"No; however, I need to speak with you and make a request."

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**A/N:** Big bear hug sized thank you to Pastel who once again smoothed out this chapter so nicely! :) I really appreciate the time and effort that she puts into reading, replying, and correcting. Thank you.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and added _Ginnungagap_ to your favorites and/or follow the story. And welcome to any new readers from _Fictionators_ or _Twilight Fic Zone_!

**Teasers:** Teasers will posted every Sunday on _Twilight Fic Zone_ and Monday on _The Fictionators._ I maxed out my 500 word limit for my teaser, so make sure you check it out. Just to give you a hint: LEMONS. Yes, multiple. Yes, the ones you hopefully have been waiting for.

**Other Notes:** What did you think of the fallout from Chapter 19? It's important to note that this culture of Norse/Vikings were very proud people. They felt honor was something very important, in fact these people did not fear a fight (even if it could result in their deaths) but were far more frightened of someone smearing their name (and their family name). While Izabel is conflicted about whether or not to disclose everything (or mostly everything) to Yåkov, it is the culture instilled in her (honor) that really pushes her forward to be as truthful as possible with him.

Did you spot any more clues? Any guesses about Izabel's plan? I do apologize that this is a shorter chapter (sitting just below 4,000 words).

**Fic Recs: **If you have not read, _I Remain, Yours_ by momatu (posted on TWCS and Twilighted, not sure if she posted on FF) then you should check it out. _Room w/a Vu_ by AngelGoddess1981 is also a good read. It's one of those rare AH AU stories that I've found I like, so even if you prefer a AU with vamps and other supernatural goodness, give it a try. And finally, _She's Everything_ by maxipoo (here on FF) is a great crossover between Supernatural and Twilight featuring a Bella and Dean pairing. I did not think it would work well, but checked it out because I just had to know and I must say she has done an amazing job weaving it all together.


	22. Chapter 21: One Night

**Disclaimer: **SM owns Twilight. Original characters and plot are all mine. Reminder: this story is rated "M" due to violence and lemons. Lemons ahead - you have been warned. :)

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It was evening, and the moon shone brightly throughout the palace windows, casting an eerie blue gleam to the stone walls and floors. Though my steps were cautious and silent, my heart thundered loudly in my ears, and the deafening swoosh of the blood circulating in my veins made me wonder if anyone else could hear my approach.

Fool.

I knew the fear was irrational—my entire life had been dedicated to my training—from stealthy hunts in the maze as both prey and predator, to meditation to train my mind for acute observance of my surroundings. Rationally, I knew that my travels throughout the palace were quiet and unheard, yet with my mission in mind, I could not prevent myself from the fear of being discovered.

The halls were quiet, as many of the servants still remained at the _Vetrnætr_ celebration or had already departed for the Wild Hunt. Bright lights had illuminated the hall as people from the village, Jarls, and even those who traveled from neighboring villages entered for the celebration. Swaying bodies, drunk with mead, laughed and danced about in their colorful dresses, costumes, and woolen masks of sheep and goats. I made my appearance with Yåkov, our hands clasped tightly together, and perhaps for onlookers we were a happily united couple, yet our hot, tangled hands were tensed and stretched tight. I partook of the _vetrnátta blȯt_—the sacrificial horse cooked into the thick stew—and drank the ceremonial _sumbel_; then as the dance began, I excused myself.

Leif had followed me, which Nada and I had anticipated. However, as I rounded the corner from the hall, I had tucked my body behind a pillar while Nada, her costume and mask identical to mine, walked onward toward my chamber. In the night, Leif had unknowingly passed my hidden body and continued his pursuit of whom he thought was me.

Hidden behind the costume from the festival, I moved in the opposite direction. Soft felt dyed a deep green lined my cheeks, the bridge of my nose, and my forehead as my mask, and was secured behind my head with a soft cord. The eyeholes were cut slightly larger than my eyes, so that they highlighted my eyebrows but still concealed my identity. I wore the traditional fitted hood—also dyed a deep green to match my mask—whose edges lined my face and overlapped the lining of my mask. A braid secured my hair within the hood. Heavy green wool concealed my dress as it hung heavily around my shoulders; its threadbare material of blue and gray hues was a stark contrast to my deep green mask and hood. The bodice was tightly bound from my waist to my breasts, and as I crept through the halls, snippets of the cold night air would graze the top of my bodice and chill me.

As a child, I had roamed these hallways often, visiting the servants and their children in their chambers. However, as I had transitioned into womanhood, I had not since returned. The passages were familiar yet disorienting at the same time. Jarpr's quarters were at the very end of the last passage inside the Eastern wing. There were only two more halls before I would reach his room. True to his word, Yåkov had released the guards from Jarpr's door; we had planned to meet in his room while the ongoing festival diverted the attention of the people.

Would he be sleeping? Had he forgotten the meeting? Would he . . . deny me? Would he really leave? Could I still go through with this? My nerves betrayed me and screamed at me to return to my own chambers, to forget the foolishness that had consumed me for the past months, and maintain distance until he departed.

Yet I knew any such plan would be in vain. I could not stay away from him any more than he could stay away from his home and his family. Inhaling deeply, I rounded the final corner, his door only steps away.

_Calm down._ I breathed in deeply, held it—and slowly exhaled. I could do this—I would do this. My arm rose stiffly to tap quietly on his door. The Valkyries had reported that no visitors had come nor departed from Jarpr's door under their watch. For all intents and purposes, he was a loner and stranger, alone in this land with no friends or allies—save me. Save my heart.

Memories of the previous evening flooded my mind. Jarpr had returned unseen to my bedchamber, yet when he had entered, I was pacing the room in agitation. My nerves were raw with anticipation of the conversation I had planned, although at that time I was unsure that I would even see him to make my unusual request. Delight and relief had flooded my body at his nearness, and I steadied my breathing before I acknowledged him. "Jarpr."

He had bowed deeply at the waist, yet as was his habit, his eyes never left my face. "Your Majesty. Do you not require my services tonight?" his velvet, musical voice replied.

"No; however, I need to speak with you and make a request." He straightened his posture and awaited my words. "It is not without difficulty that I ask this of you." I paused for a steadying breath. "Jarpr, I have spoken with Nada and have found that she is quite taken with you."

His brow narrowed in confusion.

Another deep breath. "Jarpr, she would like to"—inhale and exhale—"come to your chambers tomorrow after the Vetrnætr celebration when the men have left for the Wild Hunt."

Silence hung in the air, thick with tension. Would he deny the request? A part of me hoped that he would, while another yearned for him to accept the proposal. _Please say yes. Please say no._ My mind chanted this mantra over and over again. This would be the moment for me, the moment of truth.

"Do _you_ desire this, Highness?" his voice quietly inquired.

My throat felt thick and dry, my tongue heavy as I struggled to answer him. "Yes, very much," I replied.

"As you wish. Please send her to my former quarters after the other men have departed for the Wild Hunt. I hear the King will be among them this celebration." He smirked at me and I could not help but wonder: was this his way of warning me that he saw through my charade?

An ache in my tightened fist twitched and returned me to the present. Sighing, I moved my fist to rap lightly on his heavy door. It swung open easily. His head, ever covered with his dark hood, was tilted to the side, and his bright golden orbs peered out from the shadows. "Nada?" he whispered, unsure.

I nodded. For this to work I could not speak; surely he would recognize my voice. Jarpr's nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled deeply, perhaps as nervous as I was with this interlude. Fluidly, he backed away a few steps and gestured with an outstretched arm. "Come in, Nada." His voice caressed the name and sent a shiver of pure pleasure down my spine.

If only.

If only it were my name that rolled from his tongue.

"The Queen informed me of your impending visit this eve and of your intentions." His body maintained distance from my own, yet I could still feel the crackle and the ever present tug toward him when in his presence. The door closed with a heavy thud that resounded in the small quarters.

He held a hand outstretched, palm up, in invitation. Unsure, I slowly lengthened my arm and hesitantly placed my palm in his. Cold fingers curled around my hand and wrist, and with a slight tug, pulled me to him. Nervous, I abated my gaze and allowed my eyes to drink in my surroundings.

A fire crackled invitingly in the hearth located in the corner of the room. To my right was a large window peering over the quiet, darkened village, and to my left, a small, tidy bed. I noticed in the limited area nestled between the fire, bed, and window was a small pallet of blankets with thick pillows littering its edge. Fleetingly, I wondered if he preferred this space for sleeping to the bed virtually unused resting flush against the cold walls. Another thought raced across my mind: perhaps this pallet was for my visit this eve. It was a barren room, very sterile, with only the bed flush against the wall, the fire, and this pallet. Everything else looked untouched, as if no one really lived here. It made me wonder how much time he had actually spent in this room, if any at all. Yet I knew he had to spend time here, as my own maidens had observed his coming and going throughout the past few weeks.

Unconsciously, we had taken a few steps into his room—moved closer to the pallet in the middle of the room. When his lips ghosted across the exposed column of my throat, I jumped—my skin collided with the cold, hard surface of his chest. His deep velvet laugh tickled at the flesh between my shoulder and the base of my neck. "Did I frighten you?" he whispered.

His breath fanned across my skin. It was cold like a crisp winter's night, yet the scent drew me toward him. Always to him. My skin flushed in anticipation of his touch, my heart pounded wildly in my chest, and every nerve in my body was raw with want. I turned slowly to face him, fighting for control to calm my body and maintain a clear head over my reactions. Yet, the purpose of my visit was the complete opposite. I was not here to maintain control; rather, I was here for a gloriously freeing night—to lose control, to trust myself with him. True, I had deceived him under the guise that it was Nada who visited his bed and not me, but I would wallow in that misery later. Now I wanted, needed, to release the white knuckled grip that threatened to strangle me – and just feel. My throat constricted as I swallowed, and my eyes sought his ochre gaze. The gasp left my body before I could restrain it, and it echoed loudly in the small confines of his room.

His previously amber eyes had darkened, their gaze intense, as if they were able to see past my disguise. The rims barely shined with the beautiful golden glow as the inky darkness all but consumed his eyes. "I must know—do you want this? It is best that we end this now if this is not what you want," he whispered.

Swallowing thickly, I nodded my head.

"Tell me; I want to hear you say that you want this," he commanded.

A whisper—surely I could whisper without being detected. "Yes," I whispered as quietly as possible.

Slowly, as if his skin would burn under mine, my fingers crept forward from my sides. The tender pads brushed the planes of his firm chest and moved upward toward his neck. Those eyes—darkened with want—watched me as I explored his chest and shoulders. His cool breath washed over my face, the blue light of the moon and warm orange hues of the fire danced and mingled with one another as my sight blurred, and heat shot from the pitter-patter of my heart straight to my lower abdomen and crept between my thighs. My nipples hardened and strained against the flimsy fabric of my dress. A growl deep in Jarpr's chest returned my focus to our closely aligned bodies and the scorching heat that simmered between us.

My gaze sought his chest, which rumbled with vibration, up to his hooded neck and head, and then finally his darkened eyes. His lips crashed down upon mine—needful, dominate—yet still somehow restrained, as if he were holding back. Cold hands gripped my waist and pulled my body forward until each curve, dip, and valley was aligned with his. A moan slipped from my lips as my eyes slid closed, and my hands pulled at his neck to bring him closer. His hood fell behind his head and gathered at my fingertips. Lips collided, his tongue outlined the bottom edge of my lower lip, and I felt as if I were drowning in a sea of need.

My lungs screamed for air, and I broke the kiss, gulping air with each breath. I opened my eyes to see his face inches from mine. So badly I wanted to say something— anything—yet I knew I had to remain silent. He could not know it was I, not Nada, who visited his chambers, his bed, this evening.

His own orbs struggled to convey a message to me, and he seemed to struggle for some shred of self-control. I knew the feeling. Bravely, I stood on my toes to reach his neck with my lips, my tongue curled around the bottom of his earlobe while my teeth nipped gently at the skin. Carefully, I pulled his lobe between my teeth and sucked while my tongue slowly stroked his flesh. My fingers tugged at his cloak ties, yet my fingers shook so badly, I could not untie them.

Another growl was unleashed from him, and he held me at arm's length. Chest heaving, yet a smirk playfully on his lips, he growled, "Allow me." Slowly he laid me down on the soft pallet, my skin warmed by the fire as I gazed up at him. The cloak was the first layer of clothing shed: almost too quickly for my eyes, he untied the knot, and the heavy material fell quietly behind him. With a swift tug, he pulled his tunic over his head, his fingers already loosening the ties of his leather trousers, and his feet slid off the boots. My eyes widened as his fingers worked the tie, and I swallowed nervously. It was not as if I did not know what would occur. In fact, this very act was the reason I had traveled to his quarters. I had consummated my marriage with Yåkov, yet this would be so very different.

His eyes registered the nervousness in my eyes and forgot the leather ties of his trousers. Fluidly, he lowered his body next to my own on the pallet. "We don't have to do this if you do not wish it," he murmured to me.

I nodded my head again. I knew I wanted him, but was suddenly very aware of my lack of experience: my wedding night and an awkward evening with my husband months later did not build my confidence. How would I please him? Understanding dawned in his eyes, and without a word, he gently pressed my upper body back into the pallet. "We'll take this slow." His fingers trailed up my neck, then behind my hood, searching for the ties to my mask.

Frantically, I shook my head no and pulled at his arm from behind my head. Confusion swept across his features. "You don't want me to remove your mask?"

I nodded my head in confirmation.

"But why? Why do you hide yourself from me, _Nada_?"

My heart hammered in my chest, and blood rushed in my veins—did he know? Why did he continue to say my name that way?

His hand remained behind my head, his fingers already curled around the cord securing the mask, but my hand wrapped around his forearm, and my eyes begged him to leave my mask in place. Conflict raged behind his eyes, and he bowed his head.

"I cannot do this with you if you hide from me," he breathed, "Your Highness, you do not fool me. I want you as much as you want me, but please, do not hide from me."

I gasped and bolted upright. He knew! He knew the entire time! Panic filled me, and I wanted to run from the room. Humiliation seeped into my bones, and my face flamed with the embarrassment that coursed and throbbed through me.

Faster than I knew possible, I stood and fled the room. Tears muddied my view as I ran blindly through the winding halls back to my chambers. Air burned in my lungs as I attempted to outrun my shame. When I had walked to Jarpr's chambers, the distance had felt like a journey from one part of the palace to the other. Yet my chamber door came into view much sooner than that, and thankfully, Leif was nowhere to be seen. I flew through the heavy door, past the sitting area, and into my bedroom. I slammed the doors closed and crumbled to the floor by my bed.

My fingers ripped the mask from my face as tears spilled down my cheeks. I was a fool to think I could trick him. He was a god, had discovered my maidens when I sent them to watch him, and had known things throughout the palace that he should have had no knowledge of—and yet, I had fooled myself into thinking I could sneak past him. Was he disappointed that I had come to his room instead of Nada?

Memories of the week when he remained away corroded my mind. Each day, he had visited while I was away from my rooms, and each day, it was Nada who conveyed news of his visit. Out of my sisters, it was Nada who had visited his room the most under the guise of watching him for me. A moan of anguish passed through me as I comprehended his desire for _her_ and not me.

He had even directly informed me of his want for her; it was that declaration that I had used to my advantage to get my opportunity this evening. Her confusion over his statements had been all the proof I needed that he lied to me. Yet, I should have considered that just because it was not the truth, did not mean the statement lacked truth. He wanted _her_.

Fool.

Idiot.

_Calm down. Calm down._ This situation would be handled in time. I just needed to calm down and think of a solution. My heart ached as I considered the real possibility that whatever little time remained, I could not face Jarpr again.

The man had become my friend, his nightly visits and stories the highlight of my days, and that friendship had somehow changed and shifted into love. Hours bled into minutes and minutes into moments as I waited—as I craved his nearness to me. Evenings of his hands on my skin, his whispered words in my ear—my skin had burned under his touch.

Yet it was not I he truly visited. Nada. My confidant and sister: she was for whom his heart burned. She was whom his love story in the stars was about; it was for her that his face had softened with love and adoration.

_Her_

_Not me._

Anguish ripped through me again.

A loud noise interrupted my thoughts, and I jumped alert. The door to my chambers swung open, and a fully clothed Jarpr stepped inside. His eyes were wild as he spun to face me. Not so quietly, he shut the doors to my room and lowered himself to the ground where I sat. My face turned away from him, and I moved to withdraw from his touch. Yet iron hands kept me in place. "Your Highness." His voice was commanding, and I could not help but look into his eyes. "_Izabel_, please do not run from me." His lips lowered to mine again, this kiss gentler, less rushed, yet still as passionate as the first. "Please, say something."

I shook with the force of my emotions and my attempts to calm the storm within me. "I understand." My voice was low and strained.

"Understand what?" Puzzlement danced in his eyes, and I forced myself to look away. "Highness, I wish I knew what you were thinking. You must tell me."

"I understand that it is Nada you want. It was my mistake, and I should not have misled you. You will have no objections from me to pursue her. Please, leave me." My minded pleaded with him to leave, depart, and allow me my shame in private. Yet, he did not move.

Exasperated, he sighed. "Highness, I hoped that it was you who would come tonight, not Nada." Words I longed to hear gave my heart hope—gave _me_ hope—and I chanced a glace at him. Sincerity washed his face, and my next question fell from my lips before I could stop it.

"How did you know?" I whispered.

He laughed darkly. "I would know you anywhere, behind any mask you choose to wear, behind any costume you wear—I would know you. Your aroma is distinct, your eyes the gates to your beautiful soul, and your touch"—he paused and considered his words—"your touch hums against my skin. I know you feel it as well. I cannot stay away from you any longer, and I dread my return to my family." His lips brushed the skin along my jaw and up toward my ear, where he whispered, "I have never felt for anyone as I feel for you." His cool lips kissed the shell of my ear. "I want you, Izabel."

"I want you as well," I confided.

His fingers twitched along the cord of his cloak, and for the second time tonight he removed his cloak and tunic. Inches from my lips, he hesitated, and his eyes searched mine. Did I trust this man? Really trust him to not reveal my treachery? Trust that he wanted me and not Nada as I had convinced myself? As I peered into his eyes—eyes that awaited my answer—I knew that I could and would trust him with my very life, my heart, and my body. I nodded my consent. His fingers gently slid the hood from my head, revealing me to him.

"Beautiful," he groaned and released the cord that secured the cloak about my shoulders. The heavy material sank to the floor, and my shoulders were freed, the exposed skin above my bodice iridescent in the light of the moon and fire.

My eyes begged him to kiss me again—to touch me—yet he remained frozen above me. "You must tell me if I hurt you—if I hold you too tightly. Promise me."

"I will," I affirmed for him.

Swiftly, he gathered me in his arms and moved us to my bed. His mouth lowered to mine again, and his body hovered above my own, balanced on his elbows. As his mouth hungrily devoured mine, I thought he whispered, "Tonight, I make you _mine_." Yet, as my body hummed with his touch, all other sounds faded and bled into one another. The only distinct sounds were my moans, pants, and whispers to him in the darkness.

His lips grazed my neck and collarbone and hovered safely above my bodice. Still, my breasts ached for his touch: my nipples pebbled against the fabric and strained forward to meet his hand. I groaned out my frustration as my body screamed its need. "Please," I begged, not quite sure of what I was begging for, only that I needed him in a way I had never needed anyone before.

Cold fingers pulled at the straps that laced my bodice closed. "Dammit," he swore as he struggled with the ties. In his frustration, he pulled too hard, and I heard the distinct sound of fabric tearing. I should have been concerned, yet my only concern was feeling his skin against my own, feeling his lips, his hands—anything—against my naked flesh. My back arched into his hand, and he hissed in response.

The sound of fabric ripping and tearing filled the quiet night air as he tore my dress open at the bodice and then slid it down my shoulders and past my waist. I had elected to not wear undergarments in my haste to prepare, and I knew the exact moment he realized I was bare beneath my dress: his forehead dipped to my shoulder and his chest heaved.

My fingers weaved into his hair, and I drank in his features greedily. His bronze hair seemed to be alight from the fire and was soft to the touch, and his skin was pale— which I already knew—but seemed to almost glow against the night sky. When he looked up from my shoulder, I drank in his face. It was beautiful, as I had always known, with high cheekbones and a beautifully sculpted jawline. His eyes, now completely dark like a starless night, burned into mine. "Your eyes," I whispered—to him or myself, I was not sure. "They change colors; sometimes they look like honey in the spring, but now they are pitch black. Like an animal in a feeding frenzy."

He flinched as I finished, then brought his mouth back to mine. "If I am in a frenzy, it is only from wanting you," he spoke against my lips. His hand ghosted across my chest, first at my collarbone, then trailed languidly downward toward the valley between my breasts. I moaned in frustration as his fingers slid achingly slow past my breasts to my navel. My back bowed, and my chest arched upward toward him. Never before had I felt such a need before: a need I could not describe nor understand and the pure want that pulsed through my veins.

"Your heart; it sounds as though it will fly from your chest," he murmured as his eyes gazed hungrily at my exposed mounds. His hand paused slightly above my navel, and then before I registered the movement, his hand cupped an aching breast, and his thumb brushed over a sensitive bud. Mesmerized, he palmed the heavy weight. Though his skin was cool, his touch set my skin aflame. Another frustrated moan escaped my lips, and his eyes found mine again. Tentatively, he squeezed my left breast and then the other. His lips covered the left pebble while his hand continued his exploration of my right.

Wetness gathered between my legs and between the tops of my inner thighs. Instinctively I rubbed them together, seeking some form of friction. Like a man starved, his lips released the left tip and moved to the right before sucking hungrily. Beneath him, I felt his body vibrate again, a deep growl resonating from his form.

Suddenly I was pulled from my musings as his hips rolled forward and met the pulse at the apex of my thighs. Moaning, I attempted to spread my legs wider, yet was hindered by the gathered fabric at my hips. Frustrated, Jarpr pulled the fabric down, and I laid completely naked before him. When he lifted his head from my breast again, his face was contorted—in pain or passion, I was not sure. He looked wild, beyond control, and for a small moment, it frightened me. Yet I knew without a doubt that I trusted him. I trusted him with my life and knew that no harm would come to me. Of this, I was sure.

As he nudged my legs open, the leather of his trousers touched my thigh, and I hissed in disapproval. I wanted to feel him—every inch of his strange skin against my own. My fingers tugged at the tops of his trousers in frustration. "Off," I breathed, "take them off."

His body departed from mine and returned in the blink of an eye. I cried out as he aligned his frame with mine again, his knee nudging my legs apart, and then nestled between my thighs. I felt his hard length along my stomach first and gasped again. _How is _that_ going to fit inside me?_

But before I could begin to panic, his hands returned to my breasts—fondling them, molding them, pinching the tips, and then taking them in his mouth where he sucked and licked at them greedily. His hips rolled again to my heated core, and my body met his thrusts. As our hips met together, his length ground against my most sensitive area, and I cried out in pleasure and shock.

His head lifted again, eyes wild, as he drank me in. "_Mine_," he growled and thrust against me again. Again my hips met his, and I cried out from the delicious friction it created. Moaning and writhing beneath him, I wrapped my arms around his back and pulled with all my strength for him to come closer. My body begged him for a release that I did not even understand.

Again he thrust his hips to meet mine, and again I cried out in pleasure. A tight knot formed in my stomach, and my toes tingled. His mouth captured mine again and swallowed my cries as our bodies continued to work together. Closer and closer I flew to the edge. Panting, moaning—struggling—below him, I pleaded for my release, pleaded to tumble over, and with another strong thrust, I fell. His tongue caressed my lips and sucked on my bottom lip. As I fell, I pressed myself closer to him. My fingers dug into his unyielding skin, and I cried out his name, "Jarpr!"

I became aware of his gaze first. It felt as if it penetrated my skin and looked right into my soul. My skin felt overheated and slick, and without the haze of passion I suddenly felt very exposed. I moved to cover myself with my hands, but he trapped my wrists in a steely grip. "No. Never feel you need to cover yourself, love." His eyes still looked wild, and his gaze hungry, yet there was a tenderness that had not been there before. "I need you." His voice sounded harsh, almost guttural, and it spoke to that place inside me again. Large butterfly wings fluttered within my stomach, and I felt a heat pass through me, from my face all the way down to my thighs again.

He released my hands, and his fingers drifted again—past my aching breasts, past my navel, and paused at the curls between my thighs. His gaze never left mine as his fingers inched lower until they found my swollen folds, and I groaned as his cool fingers touched me. My hips thrust into his hand, and he palmed my hips to lower them back to the smooth bed beneath me. "Please, let me be in control here," he pleaded. Cool fingers returned to my slick and swollen folds and rubbed up and down along the drenched slit before one finger was finally dipped inside.

Heaven. That was what heaven must feel like. The coolness of his flesh seemed to stabilize my overheated skin and insides. I moaned and fought to remain still as he had requested, and I allowed him to take control. His finger thrust in and out of me at a slow rhythm, and then he added a second finger and continued his ministrations. When he added a third finger, stretching me to an almost unbearable point, I hissed and groaned at the pressure. His lips silenced my whimpers as he plundered my mouth, and his tongue sought entry from my parted, gasping lips. In time with his fingers, his tongue thrust in and out of me, bringing me closer and closer to that edge again. When his mouth pulled back from mine, my eyes opened. He was wild again, barely controlling himself, almost crazed above me. Instead of fear, which I knew I should feel, my stomach fluttered again. I felt emboldened by his obvious want. "Please_, __please_—take me," I pleaded.

Gone were his fingers as I felt his tip nudge at my opening. It appeared with great difficulty that he paused, and in a rough voice, he asked, "Are you sure? I must know. If you want me to stop, you must say so now." His unspoken words hung between us. He was quickly losing any remaining restraint he had left. If we started now, he wasn't entirely sure he could stop.

"Yes, please. _Please_."

He impaled me to the hilt in one stroke and filled and stretched me to point of discomfort. I cried out from the sudden sensation and bit down on my lip as memories of the last man to take me assaulted my mind. I whimpered as I fought the onslaught of memories filled my senses. Jarpr's face fell away, and it was Yåkov above me, savage and brutal, taking me without concern. Yåkov's face was cruel as he drank in my naked form. His hands had gripped my waist too tight, and his thrusts were too fast and deep—I remembered my fear that he would tear me in two.

"No, no, no," I moaned, as the images possessed my mind and the fear swept through my body. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as I screamed and begged him to stop.

"Izabel, come back to me. Please, my love, return. I'm here, and I'll never let anyone harm you." A velvet voice whispered to me and pleaded my return to his arms.

Ragged breaths tore through my body as I fought for control. _Fight!_ I reminded myself over and over that I could fight back. With each steadying breath, the images swirled and bled into one another, until it was Jarpr's face I saw above my own.

"Jarpr?" I whispered, confused. My mind reached for the last memory before Yåkov was above me. Jarpr, above me—_inside_ me, about to . . . _Oh God, did I just break down in front of him?_ My panicked eyes sought his.

A sheet had been pulled over my body to cover my nakedness, and Jarpr was beside me—no longer joined with me. Whimpers escaped my lips, closely followed by deep mournful sobs of shame and anger. "Jarpr, I'm so sorry!" I cried and hid my face behind my hands as I sobbed.

Gently, he pulled my hands from my face and kissed each eyelid. "What happened?"

How does one explain to a lover that her husband had brutally taken her on their wedding night while witnesses looked on? My cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and I tucked my chin close to my chest, as I remained silent.

"That bastard," the angry voice next to me hissed. Abruptly, his cool fingers tipped my chin upward and locked my gaze with his own. "Izabel, did he hurt you?"

Shame rolled through like the waves of the ocean lapping at the sand. "Yes," I whispered. Surely, Jarpr would leave the bed, dress, and leave the room – dismissing me. "Please," I choked out the words.

The angry features of his face distorted as my broken, whispered pleas reached his ears. Slowly, they softened, and _my_ Jarpr returned to me. "Highness, I would never, ever harm you. Please believe me. I apologize for what happened. I lost control and . . ." His voice trailed off as he struggled to regain his composure. "Regardless, it was terrible of me—inexcusable—and I should have been more considerate of you. Please forgive me."

This beautiful angel, this amazing man who had stolen my heart, was asking _my _forgiveness? His lips returned to my eyelids, kissing the track of each tear that had slid down my cheeks. When he reached my jawline, his tongue lapped the moisture gathered there, and he kissed each corner of my mouth.

"You are a beautiful, amazing woman," he whispered in my ear, "Your strength amazes me, and the passion you have for your people is nothing short of staggering." His nose traced the outer shell of my ear before he continued. "If I dreamed, Izabel, it would be of you. You fill my every waking thought, and it has taken great restraint to be away from you. I don't have the strength to hold you at bay anymore." While he spoke, his cool hands pulled and tugged tenderly on my hands, then my wrists, and moved up my arms. Slowly, his soothing voice and solid hands worked the tension from my mind and body until I felt as if I were floating in a relaxed state.

When I awoke, I was alone. It was still night. The moon's supernatural glow had shifted in the room, yet the fire had obviously been fed and nurtured, and its flames lapped greedily at the logs and kindling in their grasp. My sleep-laden eyes struggled to open and take in my surroundings.

I was in my room.

Naked.

In my bed.

Alone.

As I shifted on the silky softness, I pulled the sheets to my body to cover my nakedness and peered around my quarters. As my sleep-laden eyes sharpened and focused on my surroundings, I wondered: where was Jarpr? He was not in the bed with me, on the bench along the wall, or by the fire. I stretched my neck and peered around the room for him before I noticed a still statue by the edge of the window. Could that be Jarpr? The statue was unmoving—still as it sat on the edge of the window. Its legs hung over the edge, above the sharp drop to the ground.

Gathering the cover around my form, I stood on uncertain legs and made the short distance to the window. Yes, it was he. "Jarpr?" My voice sounded so small and unsure. He turned and peered back at me. "Your Majesty, how do you feel?"

I did not like this. Just a few short hours earlier; he had called me by my name or "love." Using my title seemed so cold, distant, and formal.

"I'm better, thank you." The silence hung thick between us, awkward and uncomfortable. "I awoke, er—alone," I said in hopes of breaking the tension between us.

His face was impassive. Gone was the passionate yet considerate lover from earlier. "Yes, I retrieved a dressing gown for you, and I should take my leave of you before anyone notices. Only so much time can be explained away by the festival." He nodded his head, and in a swift dance he had dismounted the ledge and retrieved a gown.

I scowled. No, this was not why I came to him tonight. I did not come to be rejected, especially after discovering his desire for me equaled mine for him. "No," I said firmly, "No, don't push me away."

His mask remained in place, impassive, disconnected, and uncaring. "No, Jarpr; please, come back to bed. Lie with me."

"That is not best, Highness. Do you require assistance dressing?" Sidestepping my advances, he dodged me and offered a dress remarkably similar to the one I had worn under my cloak upon entering his quarters.

Tears pooled in my eyes, but I would _not_ cry. I was unsure as to _why_ he behaved and acted in this manner toward me, but I did not for a moment believe it. Angry, I yanked the dress from his grasp before depositing it upon the floor. "No, I do not require any assistance." I seethed.

Then I dropped the sheet I was clutching to my naked body. "Tell me, Jarpr. Tell me you do not want me."

His eyes instantly adverted my gaze and my body, his frame stiffened, and I could have sworn he was no longer breathing. "I do not want you, Highness. Please, cover yourself."

"Look at me, Jarpr! Look at me when you reject me."

His gaze returned to mine, and I had to bite down on my lip to hold back a shocked gasp. His eyes reflected that of a storm—an angry, conflicted, raging storm. Although he tried not to drink in my naked form, his eyes—traitors to their master—worked down and then back up my body.

Bravely, I took a step closer to him. "Please, come back to bed," I whispered and extended my hand in invitation. He froze, uncertainty clouding his face.

I took another step.

And another.

Another step, until my chilled, naked form was pressed up against his almost naked body. He had donned his leather trousers again, but his chest remained bare. My fingers brushed the tops of his shoulders and up his neck. Slowly, I leaned my face closer to him and breathed against his shoulder. My lips then climbed higher, to just below his ear. "Please, come back to bed," I whispered. My tongue flicked between my lips, wetting them, while also wetting the hidden dip behind his ear.

A low growl escaped him; a deep vibration that gathered in his chest and slowly built up into his throat and escaped from his tense mouth. "Please," I added and pressed myself more fully to his naked torso.

"Dammit," was all he whispered. Then he gathered his arms around me, and in two large strides returned me to the bed. His mouth was on mine then, consuming me with his lip and tongue. I never noticed when he shed his trousers, but I felt his erection pressed against me again, and I moaned wantonly.

"Again—please try again." I pleaded. His head bobbed affirmatively in the moonlight, and I felt his tip nudge at my swollen folds again. "Slower this time," I whispered, and again he nodded.

Slowly he entered me. I felt myself stretch to accommodate his size and moaned at the feeling. Instantly, he paused. "Are you alright?" he whispered in the night. I nodded and moved my hips to signal him to keep going. Bit by bit he moved inside me until finally we were joined completely. "You feel amazing. I do not know how long I can remain still. Are you okay?"

"Yes," I panted, and in the moonlit room, I sought his lips. "Kiss me," I breathed, and his mouth found mine. Slowly, he moved within me. He would first withdraw to his tip before slowly pushing back into me again. I groaned at the sensation, and my hips began to move with his. He hissed as the rhythm increased, and his kisses became more frantic and intense until he lavished attention upon my neck. Ever so slowly, his teeth scraped against my jugular, his tongue following close behind. His hands dropped from my hair and my breasts to my sides as he supported his weight.

"_Mine,_" he breathed.

Our hips thrust faster and harder, and I was panting and teetering so precariously close to that edge again. Cool fingers pressed against me where we were joined, and I felt myself hurdling toward the edge. I was moaning, panting, pleading with him to bring me over that edge, and with a slight pinch on my sensitive bud, I was free falling. My body exploded from within, my toes curled, and every nerve in my body was on fire. In the distance, I heard his shudder and groan as he followed me over the edge. Fabric ripped, and then all was quiet. "Izabel," he whispered into my sweat-slickened neck. All I could do was gasp for air and ride the aftershocks of the pleasure.

As I came down from the sensations, I curled my body into his. My hands splayed across his chest, and I laid my head at his shoulder. Would his heart beat as wildly as mine? Yet all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears, like waves crashing and breaking against a stone-riddled beach. "Jarpr?" I whispered in the night.

"Hmm?" he murmured back, his eyes still closed.

"Do you still want to leave?"

Lazily, his eyes opened, and I noticed the golden hue had returned. "No, I'm sorry I tried to push you away. Please stay with me. I'll depart from your chambers before the morning. Besides, the servants who have remained behind from the Wild Hunt are just returning to their rooms now, and likely will not notice if we are discreet."

I pressed my lips to the junction of flesh between his shoulder and neck and inhaled his scent deeply. My eyes fluttered close and sleep took me.

When my eyes opened again, it was not yet dawn, but the pale light of the moon had all but crept away. I remained naked in my bed of soft blankets and cool silk. The sheets were pulled around my frame, and for a brief moment I worried that Jarpr had left me again. Yet as I became more aware of my surroundings, I realized my body was still tucked securely into his. Would he be asleep? Slowly, so as to not awake him, I propped myself up on my elbow and peered into his angelic face. Otherworldly golden irises peered back at me, and I flushed with the embarrassment of him catching my unguarded gaze.

"Good morn," he whispered, a smirk on his lips.

"Indeed," I murmured, staring at him.

Before I could wonder which Jarpr greeted me this early morning – the one whose passion and want equaled my own or the own that held me at arms' length, his lips captured mine in a searing kiss. "Indeed," he echoed as his mouth stole kisses from my lips.

My body reacted instantly to his by throbbing in anticipation, and my hips pressed to his thigh in need. Quickly he rolled me to my back and kissed me breathless while his hips pressed against me. Moaning, he pulled the sheet from between us and then nestled himself between my thighs. "Yes," I whispered, wanting him again.

He made love to me that morning, slowly and with care, kissing me and whispering his love to me. Satiated, I basked in the afterglow before he withdrew from the bedding. The fire had long since died, and the early morning light had begun to spill into the room.

My lips kissed the exposed column to his jaw. "Highness," he whispered, and I froze.

During our lovemaking, he had used my name, Izabel, and when he had tried to push me away, he had used my title. "Jarpr, stay in bed with me. We can find a way to sort this out."

"No," he whispered, his voice pained. "You know that I must return. I had planned to leave last night."

Last night? "Why did you stay?"

His eyes bore into mine. "I had to know if it was you or actually Nada who would come to my room—to my bed." He had suspected all along. I had never fooled him, not for a moment.

"You knew the whole time?" I asked.

"I suspected, but I was not entirely sure. You are very guarded, and if not for more recent events, I would not have suspected the depth of your desire. Last night was my best opportunity to return home unseen. With the festival and then the Wild Hunt, it would take days for anyone to notice my absence," he explained. Icy fingers traced invisible patterns along the top of my shoulder and down my spine.

I interrupted him. "I would have noticed."

Abruptly, his hands cupped my face as he peered down at me. "Yes, you would have. But you knew that my time to leave had arrived, and I would have been safe in my homelands before anyone put any effort into my location. I must go now while I still can."

Tears threatened to spill over my eyes as my chest constricted painfully. "No, please. Don't leave. I don't know how we will sort this out, but surely we will. A little time is all I ask."

His lips pressed to mine to swallow my agony and heartbreak. "I am but a servant, Highness. I was never intended to remain here long. I will carry your memory with me for the rest of my existence, but you deserve so much more than I can offer." Violently I shook my head. My heart screamed out, and my body already ached for his touch and the warmth of his love.

"I don't care. I will find a way. Please, just remain here. Stay with me. Or tell me you will return."

Indecision clouded his face, and hope bloomed within me. If I could make him pause, maybe he would reconsider his decision. "Lay with me," he whispered to me, and I did.

I laid on my side as his fingers stroked my back and his haunting voice hummed to me. The ache in my bones, emotional turmoil, and lack of sleep crashed into me, and before long, my eyes slid closed, and I was asleep. As I drifted to that weightless void where dreams come and go in an instant, I heard his voice whisper to me, "I cannot return" and I hoped it was merely a dream.

Alone.

I was alone again.

My blood coursed through my veins as fear overtook me. _Please, please be here,_ I chanted.

The bed was empty. The room, empty. I rose from the bed—no longer naked, but dressed in a sleeping gown. Frantic, I swung the doors to my chamber open and peered around the room. Nada and the others flitted about the rooms from the main sitting area to their quarters in the chamber. Sensing my distress, Ava appeared before me.

"Find him," I breathed, my voice already thick with fear and grief. Immediately she knew whom I meant. An afterthought danced through my mind. "Quietly. Let no one know you are looking for him." She nodded her understanding and raced through the doors.

I already knew she would not find him.

His quarters were empty. Unused—that was how she described the walls that held my cherished memories. No evidence of our passionate interlude was found. There was no evidence that anyone had lived in the room at all.

Quiet pain seared from my heart to my extremities, yet it was the burn that kept me aware—aware that his safety rested with me. I knew not where he would go but the responsibility to maintain the ruse he had created rested with me. "Tell no one he is gone," I instructed the Valkyrie. "We must allow him the time needed to cross into Tyr. The Wild Hunt will not conclude until another fortnight. At the very least we can purchase this delay for him."

With the palace empty, I dropped my mask and allowed the pain of his departure to take me. I remembered his touch, the sensation of his winter skin against my overheated body, and the way his body had felt pressed against my own. His stories were soldered into my mind, tales of gods and nomads, war and peace, and haunting beauty. I wondered if his quarters at home were as blank and unused as they had been here, or if that was only because he had never planed to remain at this junction.

I recalled the moment it dawned on me that he was a spy and would eventually return to his own lands and his family. Anger would have been an appropriate emotion. I should have felt distress because a spy was not only in our midst, but was someone I trusted. I should have felt betrayed by the traitor I had trusted—both Jarpr and my heart. Yet none of these emotions had overlapped in my mind. I had felt terror, anxiety, and fright—all for him. Would he be discovered? Would he be able to return home safely? Would he retrieve the information he needed? Never for a moment had I been apprehensive about the content he collected, as I felt assured that my Kingdom was without fault and cause for invasion.

Wrong—how very wrong I had been. Jarpr had seen immediately what had taken me time to become aware of. We had all but invited the gods to stir and become aware of our borders, of our weaknesses.

When these emotions threatened to overwhelm me, I retreated to the precious few memories I shared with him. It was these memories that would become my lifeline in the turmoil for weeks to come.

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**A/N:** Big thank you to Pastel for helping me smooth over this chapter. Her feedback was very important in me tightening everything up and hopefully making Izabel's plan and Jarpr's understanding a bit more clear.

I have been waiting six months to post this chapter and cannot tell you how excited I am to finally share it with you! :) Please leave me your feedback and let me know what your thoughts are! This is also the LONGEST chapter of the entire story, so don't go getting spoiled by the length because it really won't become a regular thing. I just felt it was way too mean to cut it in half (when Izabel fled his room) and leave you hanging for another week.

**Teasers:** Chapter 22 Teaser will be up on Twilight Fic Zone on Sundays and on Mondays at Fictionators. :)

**Historical Notes: **The Vetrnaetr celebration was a real feast that proceeded the Great Hunt. I chose this celebration because throughout the entire year, it was the only one that allowed both costumes (masks) and an event that would require her husband's departure for a few days. Obviously, a large chunk of guards - who could in theory spy on her - went with him. For any interested, it was this particular scene that first came to me (and created this story), followed the ending. Everything in between was created when I tried to find out how a Queen and her servant would or could even end up sleeping together and how the ending fit in with everything else.


	23. Chapter 22: Confession

**Disclaimer: **Nope, I don't own Twilight, but the original characters and plot are all mine. Enjoy!

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Repetition. It can keep us alive.

Everyday was the same routine.

I had hoped to spend my three days—the days of the hunt while the palace was empty of Jarls, some guards, and my husband—alone to embrace my misery. Following the events that had led to Yåkov's awareness of the feelings shared between Jarpr and me, I anticipated the void that bloomed from within. A cavern seemed to open inside, cutting deep and ragged tears through me, and the rips would open and throb painfully when I paused and remembered that no more would he appear in my chambers. This searing pain had taken on a life of its own and became an unwelcome companion to me, reappearing and fading at leisure.

Leif had remained behind, his watchful eye waiting for the return of my servant, and I suspected Leif would capture him if he got the chance. The second day I failed to leave my quarters, Leif had entered the main room. Voices could be heard through the thick walls as he argued and demanded to see me.

"I must see her with my own eyes!" he had bellowed, anger coloring his voice with a slight undercurrent of nervousness.

"She needs her rest," the clear voice of Nada had replied.

"From what?" the guard demanded. "She has not left her room in two days. Is she even in there? What are you hiding from me?"

Lids heavy, I had rolled to my side and buried my nose in the soft bedding. Sweet winter rose up to meet me as I inhaled Jarpr's lingering scent. The inside of the cavern—my new companion—seemed to throb as air was forcefully expelled from my body. Wheezing, I struggled to pull in the air I needed as the sharp pains continued. _This will pass_. The pain always passed, but after my body relaxed from the onslaught, I wondered if I _wanted_ it to pass. Did I dare to hang onto this pain, my reminder that he had been here with me, and these cruel, nightmarish memories? Or did I want the pain to pass and become a memory—as he surely would become—that I would with time, forget?

Both options loomed ahead of me, waiting with open arms, and I shuddered at both of them. I did not want to forget, but I did not want to forever feel this pain of separation, either.

The door opened and thudded loudly against the wall from the force that had propelled it forward. Leif stood in the frame, angry and yes, nervous as well, as his eyes scanned the room in search of me. For a short moment, he thought I was gone. Blood drained from his face, his hands shook, and his breathing sputtered as his mind no doubt played out my husband's possible reactions.

Gathering my strength I pulled myself up from the bedcovers and waited for him to acknowledge me. The movement had captured his attention, and he turned toward me. Relief flooded his body, his rigid stance relaxed, his shaking hands stilled, and the color slowly returned to his cheeks.

"Your Highness," he breathed. "You are here."

The tenderness of his voice and his obvious concern and relief were my undoing. Fat, hot tears slid down my cheeks as I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent any cries from escaping. Instead, I stiffly nodded, hoping and praying to whatever god hearing me that he would leave me and ask no questions.

No deity heard my plea.

"What is the matter?" he sputtered, and with long strides, reached my bedside and kneeled next to me. "Have you been harmed?" Anger flashed behind his eyes before he could conceal the emotion.

_I am hurt._

_But I have not been harmed._

_It hurts._

Biting harder on my cheek, drawing blood even, I shook my head in reply.

"What happened to you? Why have you not left your quarters?" The questions flew from him in quick succession as he leaned closer, inspecting me for any bruises or other telltale signs of physical assault.

His concern overwhelmed me: this kind man had been my friend and brought me information that otherwise may have gone unnoticed. My body rebelled against my stiff, wavering control. The sob erupted from my chest and burned me as it tore to freedom, and tears slid down my cheeks, wetting the sheets and the dressing gown that I wore.

Leif's eyes darkened as understanding dawned on him. "He left, didn't he?"

I nodded, the action costing me dearly as my control slipped through my grasp and the heaving sobs continued. Indecision warred within me, as I wanted to share my grief with him, yet did not want to endanger him with such dangerous knowledge. Logic won the battle, and we sat there while I cried and he sat helpless to my side and watched.

Following my crying jag, Leif left the room and closed the door behind him. Commands could be heard again from the adjacent room—Leif wanted my sisters to dress me in my training garb. He felt it would be best for me to leave the room and get some air, to move about, and distract my mind from whatever misery afflicted my being. Despite their protests, he won, and my sisters begrudgingly padded into the room and began to pull the lightweight wrap from my dresser. I was dressed quickly before I mindlessly followed my friend to the maze.

Leif trained with me endlessly. He retrieved the solid bat and instructed me to carry it with me as I attempted to evade his tracking. My mind and heart failed to focus on the task and after he captured me for the third time, he heaved in frustration. Then as we walked in silence to the training courtyard, I carried the heavy bat the entire distance and was instructed to strike the pillars with twenty strikes on each side.

Pitifully I lifted the bat and began to strike until my fingers went numb and my shoulders ached. I silently dropped the offending item and stood staring at the pillar and remembering the night Jarpr had laid with me in the grass at the edge of this courtyard.

"Highness!" Leif's voice was rough and angry. I turned my unseeing gaze toward him as he continued. "You must stop this! Your people need you!"

_My people._

Jane had reminded me that I had failed my people and that they needed me now, perhaps more than ever before, and yet I wallowed in my loss. Months ago, I had accepted my fate—to be married to Yåkov.

Exasperated, Leif escorted me back to my chambers, and from habit I turned to bid him farewell.

Leif was not finished. "I will return tomorrow, and we will do this again. You will snap out of this. You are stronger than this—better than this." Then my friend stomped angrily away.

He returned the following day and repeated the same pattern, yet still I refused to awake from my stupor.

And so began our routine.

"_You are a light to your kingdom."_

His voice, clear as a beautiful, cloudless summer day, penetrated my thoughts. My friends—my people—they all depended on me to see them through the winter. Jarpr had not departed so I could retreat inside myself. Though my heart remained with me no longer, I pushed myself for him and for my people.

I observed my town's public proceedings, though I struggled to keep my mind focused on the problems at hand and to the arguments from each side. I felt awash in a sea of despair and knew not how to correct the course. Through the proceedings, I learned that my people were suffering. The taxes had risen again, and if the rumors were true, many were on the brink of starvation. Each midday, I brought more food, and yet each day there were those who would leave without food.

I knew I should have sought out Yåkov again, yet our previous meeting left me feeling unsure of our tenuous relationship. Distrust now resided between us. Anger and hurt from my betrayal had also taken on a life of its own. It was a living, breathing thing that seemed to haunt us as the days ticked by. He would need time, and I liked very much to allow him that. However, time was not on our side. Each day I would rise and tell myself that that was the day I would approach my husband, feelings be damned, as our leadership was desperately needed. Yet each time I readied myself to approach him, my mind would flash back to our previous discussion.

Yåkov had returned following the Hunt and called me to his chambers. He had fidgeted nervously as we sat together, knee-to-knee, to discuss the state of our marriage.

"Have you any answers for me, My Queen?" he had asked. Haggardness seemed to engulf his whole being as tired, sunken eyes stared back at me from a pallid face. I worried for him.

I sighed. What answers could I give him?

_I am in love with my servant._

_The servant who fled while you were away._

_The servant who bedded me and declared his love for me as well._

_The servant who left._

For days I had tried to find an answer to give my husband. Could I betray the love I felt with Jarpr and move on with my husband in his absence? If not, what were my alternatives? To deny Yåkov? And what would follow?

"I wish I had answers for you, my husband. But I am left . . . confused." My eyes lowered to the floor in an attempt to hide my shame. "I love him," I whispered, and I could the air shift coolly at my words. "But, he has returned to his King and will not return. And so, there remains just us. I do not know where we go from here."

Yåkov remained silent for a long stretch of time, and the tension seemed to thicken between us. The thing came alive, breathed its hot breath on our shoulders, and seemed to taunt us as the silence continued. "Did you"—he stopped and cleared his throat—"did you allow him to bed you?"

And there it was. The question that burned a hole in my husband's mind and could forever alter whatever relationship that remained between us. I dared a look at him and instantly wished that I had not. His face was twisted in the pain and rage he felt as he awaited my response. His fists were balled tightly against his thighs, and his shoulders were squared tensely.

"Yes," I replied, deciding that honesty was the best path to moving forward.

The sting against my cheek was shocking, and though I felt my face turn from the impact before I felt the hotness against my skin and the pain in my jaw, I remained still. When I tasted the bitter, tangy flavor of the blood from my lip, I realized that he had struck me. My husband had raised his hand and slapped me across the face.

My eyes rose to meet his, and I flinched back.

He looked as though he wanted to do it again.

The numbness that had taken a strangle hold on my body since Jarpr's departure seemed to descend upon me. Hot anger at the unacceptable action should have coursed through my limbs. I should have stood and glared at the man who dared to raise his hand to me. But I did not. Instead, I moved further away but did not flee. Numbness seemed to root me to this spot—to this bench—as my husband tried to regain some measure of control.

Face red, chest heaving, and hands flexing and releasing, he glared at me. "A servant?!" he screamed. "You allowed a servant to touch you in such a manner? You are married to _me_! I have courted you for months and awaited you—for _months_, and you allow a foreigner to have what you deny me?!" He stood then, angrily pushing away from the bench, and began pacing about his chamber. The first solid object his hands found, a serving plate with a cup, were thrown across the room as he screamed. Guards rushed in then, swords at the ready, as they glanced about the room in search of the threat.

Unsure eyes landed on me and apparently took in my appearance: disheveled hair, face damp with tears I had not known I shed, and blood that had dried on my lips. One taller guard with auburn hair braided past his shoulders and bright, blue eyes, made a move toward me. His thick, muscled arms returned the sword to his side, and his gaze softened as he approached. "No!" Yåkov shouted. "Leave us!"

Indecision rolled from the guard as he looked first to his King and then back at me. With a resolute nod, I confirmed my husband's orders. Though I did not want to feel anything in that moment—guilt, fear, anger, or loss—I knew that I had to push away the numbness and meet this discussion head on.

The guards departed, and we were alone once more.

I stood and walked toward Yåkov. "Yes," I answered, and he peered at me questioningly. "Yes, I allowed a servant to touch me—to have me when I did not allow you such freedoms. Yes, I am _your_ wife. And yes, I love the man with whom I committed my indiscretion. Perhaps you do not love any of your concubines, but neither are you without guilt. Here we remain, you and I, and together we must make a decision to move past this. My servant has fled. He is of no consequence to you now."

"I need to think" was his only reply before he turned sharply and retreated to his bedchamber.

Satisfied, I held myself together until I returned to my own bedchamber. Despite the fact it was only mid-afternoon, I walked past my sisters on my way to my bed and allowed myself to sink into oblivion.

Though I refused to allow the numbness to take hold of me at all times, it still came, and when I was weak, I submitted to its control. But as the days following the fallout with my husband and the departure of my lover turned into weeks, and the bitter winter took its stronghold, I knew that I would soon be forced to awake from my cloud and work for my people.

_Stop being a coward_, I reprimanded myself. As the Queen, I should have been able to help my people more than I had.

That afternoon I wandered to the bowels of the palace in search of any additional food I could bring to the people at the gates. The servants were huddled together, and quiet whispers carried through the halls as I paused to listen. A Jarl of the region, Sigtuna, had charged outlying landowners for their neglect to pay the new taxes. The landowners had explained that they did not have the funds and pleaded for more time.

Time was always the enemy.

I knew this better than most.

Unknown to me, Yåkov had instructed each Jarl to use any means necessary for the collection of the new taxes. Those unable or unwilling to pay were to be made examples. My blood ran cold as I listened. No good would result from a king without mercy, a king who instructed his Jarls to savagely take from the people.

One of the servant's voices could be heard distinctly. "My cousin, who was visiting a relative in a neighboring farm, happened to be there that day. She said Jarl Fernyr calmly walked away and that she could feel his silent fury, but he said not a word."

Another voice spoke in the quiet. "It's when they are calm that you must feel most afraid. It means they will do something terrible."

I could practically feel the heads of those gathered bob in agreement.

The voice continued in a hushed tone. "Days later, several of the families traveled to the Temple of Ubsola. They wanted to offer sacrifices to _porr_ in hopes that the famine their land had experienced would pass. They had entered the temple when the guards began to push people out—my cousin was among them. When the family tried to exit the temple, the guards restrained them. Others were shoved into the temple, and everyone was confused and frightened, but no explanations were made. Then, the Jarl entered the temple and explained that all those within the temple walls were in debt for back taxes and that their punishment would be considered merciful compared to future punishments. They shut the doors." Her voice broke as she struggled to regain her composure. "They shut the doors and locked everyone inside. My cousin said she could hear the cries of the children long before they set the temple aflame. The temple burned for hours, and before Jarl Fernyr departed the territory, he stated that this would not be the only temple to burn or the only sacrifices that would be made."

"He burned the temple? With the people inside? With _children_ inside?" This voice sounded horrified, and I shared the sentiment.

The voice continued. "It gets worse."

"How could it get worse?" another asked.

"Apparently, when Jarl Fernyr returned to the palace this morn and shared the news with King Yåkov, the King laughed and congratulated the Jarl for his _brilliant_ action. The King awarded the Jarl with another region." This time the crowd was so stunned that their response was total silence.

Another region? How could he award that monster with another region, let alone allow him to keep his current title and lands? Surely this could not be accurate. Yåkov had steadily avoided me since our discussion, and I felt that he had needed time and space to come to any decisions of his own. However, the man I knew would never condone such terrible actions. My husband was not a monster.

Angry, yes.

Hurt, yes.

Betrayed, yes.

But a man to laugh and congratulate such an animal on a job well done? No.

Memories of our summer together echoed in my mind: our walks in the courtyard and the games in my chamber. During our time together, Yåkov had shared his very real concerns for our people and to lead them wisely and with compassion. No, Yåkov would never—could never . . . No! They were wrong!

A young, quiet voice asked softly, "And what of the Queen? Does she know?"

Sad murmurs spread throughout the group before the first voice spoke again. "I do not believe so. The Queen has not been herself. Some of the servants speculate that the King is just as cruel to her as he is to the people, maybe even more so. Others believe she turns a willful blind eye to his actions. Regardless, her father would never have allowed such behavior."

There were whispered agreements while others wailed over the deaths inside the temple.

I could bear no more. I quietly retreated from the corridor and escaped back to my room. If the people thought that Yåkov had condoned the murder of children and the burning of a temple, they would have no confidence that the throne would protect them or stop these horrors from occurring. How could they possibly feel safe when they believed their own King had laughed and congratulated the monster for his actions?

This could not stand. I would stand for those silenced by the cruelty of the Jarl.

I walked determinedly into the throne room with my head held high as I approached my husband. He was seated on his throne, a throng of guards scattered around him. To his side, a richly clothed man stood, his back toward me. His brown hair was tied neatly at the nape of his neck, and he smelled freshly cleaned.

Yåkov's face was pulled into a sincere grin as he spoke quietly with the man before him. I could only assume it was Jarl Fernyr that stood before Yåkov, and I was sorely tempted to shove him from behind.

As I approached, my eyes met the man I called husband, and almost instantly his face soured. "Ah, my wife has joined us, old friend." Yåkov announced, and with the waive of his hand, the Jarl turned to greet me. "My Queen, have you been introduced to Jarl Fernyr? He is quite ingenious with his leadership of the Sigtuna region along our Eastern borders." Yåkov's smile widened his face, and his eyes gleamed with delight. It all made my stomach roll and churn. My initial mistake was my failure to hide my total disgust of the man to his flank.

As I drank in the man before me, I stumbled to a halt. My heart seemingly stopped as I gazed upon the face I knew so well.

"Hello, Your Highness. I am Jarl Fernyr. I do not believe we have had the opportunity to be formally introduced." He bowed to me at the waist, but his eyes never left mine, a dreadfully beautiful smirk playing upon his lips.

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**A/N:** Big thank you goes out to my for-all-intents-and-purposes beta Pastel who is awesome! Thank you for all your feedback and corrections. :)

**Teasers:** I got a bit busy this past weekend (I got a temp promotion at work!) and missed the deadlines for teasers. However, I'll be sending over the teasers tonight so that they will arrive on time. You see them on Sunday over at Twilight Fic Zone (_Tempting Teasers)_ or on Monday over at Fictionators (_Teaser Mondays_).

**Cliffhanger!** Who do you think it is? What the heck is going on? Let me know what you think! :)

**Thank you** to everyone who has reviewed and continues to read along. Next chapter will be up next week.


	24. Chapter 23: Lesson

**Disclaimer: **Twilight belongs to SM. Original plot and characters belong to me.

**Warning:** Strong violence and rape mentioned in this chapter.

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"Leif?" I questioned, disbelieving the man before me in such rich attire was the same man who had guarded my door and taught me to fight. Before me stood the man I had befriended and trusted, a man whom I would willingly protect.

"Yes, My Queen. I am _Jarl_ Leif Fernyr of the Sigtuna region."

"And might I add, my oldest and closest friend." Yåkov's voice carried past Leif's broad frame to my ears.

"Friend?" I repeated the word, and it felt strange on my tongue. I stood, mouth agape, struggling to make sense of what stood before me. Or rather, _who_ stood before me. The men laughed together, delighted by my bewilderment. My mind struggled against the fog that had descended on my memories. Sunlight poured through the cracks of my memory and illuminated what I had seemingly forgotten. That day had been bright and sunny, and we had discussed in earnest Yåkov's fears and worries for the kingdom. Timidly, still becoming acquainted with the man, I had suggested he halt all taxes until the people had recovered. His _friends_—the Jarls—had advised him otherwise.

_"The Jarls assure me that there is a need for the higher taxes. I believe them and trust them. I grew up with many of them and know them possibly better than their own wives. They have no reason to mislead me."_

"Yes, wife. Friend. Our fathers were close friends, and we grew up together. My oldest and my trusted friend: Leif." Shock rolled through me at the implications.

Leif had been nervous of how the King would react if Jarpr had been allowed to return to my chambers. Leif had been angry—I assumed from fear of Yåkov's retaliation—when I had disappeared. Leif—_my friend_—working so diligently to shake me from the stupor and numbness that had overwhelmed me.

As if I had been doused with freezing water, the devastation jarred me.

_Not my friend._

Darkness and stars and heavy bats that weighed down my aching arms. Shouts of "Again! Again!" over and over as I had pushed myself beyond exhaustion.

_Not my friend._

_Leif deceived me._

_"Just because someone deceives me does not necessarily mean that they are set out to harm me. I made the mistake . . ."_

_"I made the mistake . . ."_

Nausea swept through me, thick waves of it heavy in my belly, and rolled throughout my body as I desperately attempted to hold it at bay.

_Gods, I _madea mistake!

The angry, hostile glares between Leif and Jarpr.

_He knew._

Jarpr had known all along.

His angry glares at Leif, his cold dismissal—he had to have known.

"You were my guard." It was the only thought my mind could understand, all my lips could communicate.

My guard.

My friend.

Someone with whom I had cried.

"My friend," I murmured as the memories spun faster now, whirling by at an impossible speed. I felt dizzy and yearned for the numbness to descend. I longed for the oblivion and the fog.

He laughed. My friend, my guard—someone I had _trusted_—laughed. I imagined that he laughed_ at me_. "Ah, well yes. I do not believe I would have fared so well had I been myself. You seem to prefer those of a lower class . . ."

The words stung, and my palm itched to slap him across his smug face.

"And it was so very easy," he shared.

No. I did not want to hear it anymore. No!

"Perhaps if I had known how very easy you were." He leered, and my heart clenched. Bile rose in my throat, hot and burning the tender flesh, as it fought its way to the surface.

"Why?" I had to know. I was desperate for the reason behind this treachery, and I turned my eyes to the cold, indifferent man who sat upon my father's throne.

Yåkov's eyes looked like cold steel as they narrowed and burned into me. "I had to know if I could trust you. After our union, you were distant and avoided me. I had to know if you were plotting against me, if you were a threat." His voice sounded strained as he explained.

"You were horrible to me!" My arms shook, aching to wrap themselves around my body to hide myself as I relived that night. "I was afraid of you," I whispered. Breathing deeply I pressed on. "But then you were different, and I wanted . . ."

"Wanted what, my wife? A servant? Not a king, not a husband—but a slave who would bend to your desire?" Disgust covered his face as he leveled his accusations at me.

"No!" I screamed. "I wanted _us_ to work, to create a relationship. I wanted to be wrong about you! I defended you!" Horror tore through me as I realized to whom I had again and again defended him. Jarpr. Always Jarpr.

The fight rose in me as I blanched against the onslaught of memories.

_"He has deceived you."_

Jarpr had known _everything_ the entire time.

Why had he not warned me?

He did. Several times. On several occasions he had warned me to be weary of Yåkov. He had warned me that I could be harmed. It all crashed down on me as I realized how right he was. Goosebumps rose along my skin as a more frightening question spun inside me. What else did he know that I did not?

Yåkov laughed, a barking sound that reminded me of the wolves in the forest at night. My spine straightened, and I stood tall, shoulders squared, as I returned an angry glare at the men before me.

Leif continued, his words buzzing and ringing, but not registering. I focused harder on what was being said. "You see, we had never met at court before—coincidence, really—and my old friend decided to use that to his advantage. I would wait for the perfect moment to earn your trust. I would whisper rumors of the land in your ears or play with you in the maze, and then helped you save a young girl from the guard. I even taught you how men fight." His unspoken words sunk in: _and now knew my weaknesses._ "My friend was highly suspicious of that servant who arrived—who arrived, unfortunately, before I could set my affairs in order to come spend an extended amount of time here instead of in my region. He was so fierce and protective of you, but it seems in the end, he also abandoned you—to save himself, no doubt."

Splotches of color exploded behind my eyes as I felt my anger rise and dance within me. It seemed to pop behind my skin, hot and cold at the same time, and I burned with the urge to strike Leif. My eyes scanned the room as the man previously esteemed as a friend and ally spoke. Several faces stared back at me and drank in my reaction, and I swallowed nervously. I did not know these guards—these men who had gathered in the throne room—and with a start, came to quick realization that there was no allegiance to me here.

"It was a wise move." Yåkov agreed, and I fought for the control of the raging emotions inside. My husband turned to me and grinned. It was an eerie grin, bone chilling and sinister as he looked at me. "I would have taken great joy in killing him. Slowly. Painfully. I even toyed with the idea of making you watch as I drained the life from his body. Would he want you then? As he died at my hand? For what? For _you_?"

Rage boiled inside, and I struggled for much needed control.

"Why?" It was the only word I could trust myself to say, the only question I wanted answered.

"Because I _wanted_ to. He was a servant who overstepped his bounds, who reached too far—much too close to the sun—and would be burned. He should have known his place, his lot, and yet he reached and touched and angered me."

"Why reveal yourself now?" I asked, uneasy about the answer that awaited me.

Leif shrugged nonchalantly. "There is no reason to hide any longer. Your protector is gone, and the King has secured complete control of the kingdom. Thanks to my actions, few will be willing to revolt."

"You bastard!" I seethed, and instantly I could see the anger rising between the two men. Abruptly, Yåkov rose from his throne, descended the stone steps, and roughly grabbed my upper arm.

"Do not touch me." I enunciated each word as the anger shook the limbs of my body.

Another smirk. "I will touch you whenever I damn well please," he sneered. "Listen to me, Izabel." He growled. "I _tried_ to be a good King and husband—for you. I did not lie to you when I confessed my desire for a real relationship with you. Yet at every juncture you rejected my advances and rejected _me._ And then to find that you bedded that saxon!" Forcefully Yåkov shoved me to the ground. "On your knees. Bow to me, wife," he demanded.

Outnumbered and still stunned by the change of events, I begrudgingly bowed. My knees brushed the cold stone below me as I bent my body in supplication to the man before me. The man, as it turned out, I did not know. The man whom I had angered. No— not a man—a monster. I vowed to not bow to him again, to bide my time, and to take action. My heartache still throbbed, but it spoke the truth. My protector was gone, and I remained alone. Before his arrival, I prided myself on my ability to protect and defend myself, and now was the time when upon those skills I would have to rely.

"But all things come to an end," Yåkov continued as he stood before me, and I focused on his words. "With your lover gone, I expect no more resistance from you."

_No._

"Beginning right this moment, you will pay for your treachery." He stepped impossibly closer, until the crotch of his pants was mere inches from my lowered face. "Open your mouth," he demanded harshly.

"No."

It had been a stupid move to place myself in a vulnerable position and without a guard or ally of my own. My eyes were still downcast, but as I peered up, the heel of his boot crashed into the crown of my head. Time seemed to slow as I flew backwards and down to the stone floor below my abdicated body. I could feel the wound pulse somewhere above my eyes as hot and sticky blood began to run down my skin.

"Quite disrespectful,_ wife._" His voice snapped at me. "Leif, do you agree?"

Next to him, Leif slowly nodded his head, his eyes like those of a predator as they drank me. "Yes, my King. Quite disrespectful."

Yåkov's boisterous laugh echoed throughout the room as he slowly walked toward me.

_Get up!_ My body screamed, my training awakened by the unseen attack. My palms flattened against the stone beneath them as my arms pushed my body upward. However, my reflexes were dulled by my lack of focus, and Yåkov's hand gathered my hair to the top of my head and yanked me fiercely upward. "Apologize to my friend. In the absence of an heir, he takes my place as next in line for the throne."

Rage flowed to the brim of my body and overcame every rational sense as I imagined such a monster seated upon my father's throne.

_A monster already sat upon Father's throne._

"Never!" I hissed and jerked within his grasp. His fingers tightened their hold and shook my head painfully, causing hair to rip from my scalp as hot tears sprang to my eyes. _Smack!_ My sight blurred as the back of his hand connected with the right side of my face, the force of which turned my head past my left shoulder. My ears rung from the sensation, and blood rushed through my body at the shock. As my senses dulled, I fought for awareness. Blood trickled down from my lips and dripped from my chin—from my nose or a split lip, I was not sure.

I slumped to the floor as he released his grip on my tresses. He was so sure he had beaten me that he stood above me and laughed. Roaring, I pushed my body from the floor and stood tall in front of him. "I am the Queen of this land—of this kingdom. You will not lay another hand on me. Remember that it is my veins through which royal blood flows, _not_ yours."

Another laugh erupted from him, and as he pulled his hand back to land another blow, he bellowed, "Stupid woman!"

My reflexes kicked into action, and I easily dodged his hand and landed a blow of my own. My body dropped to the floor, and my leg shot out and swept toward his unsuspecting legs. Boots connected with boots as I caught Yåkov unaware, and he tumbled downward. Wasting no time, I reached for my large knife with its jagged teeth that were tucked securely in my boot and armed myself.

_Remember what Leif taught you, even if he is a bastard._

Breathing deeply, I grounded myself and balanced my body on the balls of my feet. Slowly I lowered myself into a crouch. My muscles bunched and readied as I saw the few guards of the room begin to grow uneasy yet did not attack. Perhaps they were confused as to _whom_ they were supposed to defend. Perhaps they awaited a command from Yåkov. Whatever the cause of their unease, I would have to use it to my advantage.

With a grunt, Yåkov righted his body and attempted to stand again. My father, a man of peace, had taught me few concepts of battle. One ideal that seemed to go against his kind nature had always stood out: if you must fight, do not merely defend, but conquer. Quell any thought, any hope, any chance that the defeated may harbor so that they do not make any further attempts.

_Do not defend—conquer. End this._

I feinted to the left and then swung around his right side to kick him squarely in the back. His body flew forward, as mine had only moments ago, and connected with a sickening _thud_ to the floor. Livid, he rolled to his side.

I attempted to take in my surroundings—the room I knew so well—for anything that could be of use to me. Behind me, the doors had been secured following my entrance, and there were no trees or beams to climb to for safety. I would have to face these men head on.

_Danger!_ My senses alerted me, and I spun to see two guards stride toward me with purpose in their step. I had grown up in the palace and had played with the very boys and girls who would grow to be my guards and servants. I had fed my people faithfully alongside my father every morning, listened to their disputes and squabbles each afternoon, and had always felt safe with the guards and servants of the castle. Had I missed a cue from my husband to these men, or had their allegiances been so completely altered? As I drank in their determined faces, I realized that under Yåkov's rule, much had changed.

I righted my posture from the crouch and stood tall against the guards. "Halt!" I commanded, yet they continued forward. My fingers tightened around the leather hilt of my knife, and I took two large strides toward the guards, then dropped and slid between them on the floor. The friction between the rough surface and the material of my dress burned, but I ignored the pain. Quickly, I stood and turned to one guard and held the knife to his throat. "I said, halt," I hissed. Reluctant to kill one of my own guards, when he moved to turn back toward me, I brought my knee up hard between his legs. With a scream, he dropped to the floor, and his companion faced me. Unsure, the second guard hesitated before me.

"I am your Queen, and you will stop your advance and remain where you are."

A hand tightened around my shoulder. Too late, my senses warned me of the danger behind me. Leif's hold was iron-tight as he grinned wickedly down at me. "My Queen, you have accosted the King. Tsk tsk." His tongue clicked within his mouth before his balled fist connected with my face. Pain exploded behind my eyes as I both felt and heard the crunch of bone upon impact.

My hands flew to cover my face as Yåkov took full advantage of my distraction and gripped me roughly again. My bloodied hands were yanked from my face and secured to my side as I struggled within the grip. My legs kicked wildly, searching for anything solid to make contact with, to hurt, or to push away from.

Blurred images stood before me, my eyes swam with both pain and blood, and my ears rang from the pain radiating from my nose as I struggled to remain alert to my surroundings. "Guard the doors. Our young Queen needs to be taught a lesson," a voice instructed. It was either Yåkov or Leif, but through the pain and dizziness, I was not sure.

The doors opened as some exited and then clanged shut and bolted. I was trapped. I was truly trapped in here with these men. _Fight!_ My mind screamed at me. As the blows landed to my sides and my stomach from my unseen assailants, the voice in my head quieted and faded. I curled in on myself, my arms about my head and my knees pulled to my chest, in an attempt to protect my body. Yet the beating was far from the worst of my lessons that day.

Those same guards dragged my body to the door of my chambers, knocked on the doors, and left me lying on the floor, beaten and broken. My dress had been ripped from my body, which left me essentially naked, yet the guards left not even a blanket to cover my exposed limbs. Barely conscious, I knew the Valkyrie carried me to my bed and tended my wounds. My nose had been broken, my cheek severely bruised, and my lip split. Blood had already caked in my hair from my head hitting the stone, and my hair was matted to my face and neck. Ira suspected I had a cracked rib, but without a healer, she was forced to wrap my ribs tightly in hopes of mending the injury. My pale legs were stained with red rivets of dried blood. To say the attack had been brutal would fail to grasp the gravity of what had occurred.

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**A/N:** Are you still with me? **peeks through fingers** Some of you may have seen this coming, while others may be totally shocked. Let me know which reaction you experienced. Did the indentity of the Yåkov's own spy shock you? Looking back at previous chapters, do you see the red flags that something was not quite right? I did my best to sneak them in there in a very subtle fashion, but they are there.

For those wondering about heirs, here is a slight peek into Yåkov's reasoning - he already has someone lined up. In my story (although I found little support so this part is purely fiction) the King can name a new king instead of the throne automatically passing to his wife.

Hang on tight, the ride is officially bumpy as hell from here on out. Hopefully you'll find yourself reconsidering what you thought you knew with all the surprises and coming up in following chapters. Be prepared to say goodbye to some of your favorite characters ... Which speaking, who are you rooting for? Who are your favorites and why?

**Teasers: **Teasers are posted every Sunday to Twilight Fic Zone and Monday to The Fictionators. Be sure to check it out! :-)

**Recs: **While on vacation I stumbled across _Words with Strangers_ and became hooked! Great complete story so far. I haven't finished it, but it's become quite the distraction!

As always, all reviews are greatly appreciated - the good, the bad, and the ugly. Your feedback always gives me an extra pep in my step and a huge, goofy grin to my face. Let me have it ... **puts big girl panties on** I can take it.


	25. Chapter 24: The Future

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Twilight. The plot and original characters are all mine. **

**Warning**: This chapter refers to violence.

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I had never known the feeling of fear, not like this. My confidence had been badly shaken by the brutal beating in the throne room. Whenever I dared to leave my room, my weary eyes would watch the guards and servants alike, always wondering, always asking myself if they too would betray me. Silence had descended upon the palace as I attempted to stay away from Yåkov and by extension, Leif and any other who I thought could harm me. Guilt, thick and heavy, weighed down on me. Despite my fear, all I could think of was the cowardice I had displayed: how my lack of action or retribution had communicated my silent submission to the King. The aches of my body as it slowly healed pleaded with me to be smart, to heal, and to use that time to think.

Understandably, my sisters had been enraged at the mutiny in the throne room. No guards had assisted me, my own friend had betrayed me, and my husband had taken delight—pleasure even—in the severe pain that was inflicted upon me.

And so, they had taken turns guarding my chamber. Three women at a time would stay with me while the others worked to continue feeding the people at the walls and gather any knowledge that would prevent the tsunami that threatened to crash down on our heads. I would lay on my uninjured side in my bed, numb with fear and guilt, staring out the window with blank, unseeing eyes. The door that joined the sitting room and my bedchamber never closed now, and little Jane had taken to sleeping on the far side of the bed with me at night. When I would awake, first screaming and trembling, then crying from the pain of the betrayal and the loss of Jarpr, Jane would gently hold me and comfort me as best she could. She alone could relate to the trauma I had experienced. She alone could tell me over and over that it was okay to be afraid. Never once did she reprimand me for the conflicting emotions that churned inside. Rather, she encouraged me to just feel and to not allow myself to slip away.

Bruises began to fade, wounds healed, and soon even breathing did not result in sharp, stabbing pain. I knew that as my body grew stronger, I would have to do _something_, though I knew not what I could possibly do. How could I stand against my husband? Those days, lying in my bed, I had pieced together so many things.

The sudden influx of guards must have been intentional. Gone were those who had played with me in childhood, and I worried where they had been sent. Were they outnumbered by the new men who had come to the palace? Were they sent to the outer regions to reside with Jarls who held close, unbreakable alliances with Yåkov? Regardless of their location, the fact remained that they were not here—they were not anywhere where they could intercede. Perhaps they were not even walking the land of the living anymore, but I hoped with a quiet desperation that I was wrong. In their stead were new guards, men who had lived under Yåkov's rule and had been welcomed to the guard with open arms, food for their bellies, and warm beds. Disgust rolled through me as I digested this information, for surely if Leif had known of Jane's torture, so did my husband, and that meant that neither did anything to save the girl. No, Leif had waited until _after_ her brutal attack—gods forbid even multiple attacks, as even Jane herself could not recall—until he told me about her. The man granted the guards nights of pleasure as they took without thought the girl who now comforted and consoled my broken body.

I was not sure how exactly, but I knew with great clarity that somehow Yåkov had gained the loyalty of these men. Loyalty, save a few, that did not extend to me. Images of guards who would not allow me to see Yåkov contrasted with those very few of men who had shown any concern for my wellbeing. The man with the auburn braided hair came to mind; he had wanted to step in when the King had struck me in his chambers. Yet I had not seen him since that day, and I shuddered to consider what punishment had greeted his moment of compassion.

How foolish I had been. Because of Yåkov's anger and the guilt I had felt for this man I _thought_ I knew, I had easily excused his resounding slap across my cheek. I had even excused the angry look that clearly communicated his longing to strike me again. And now, the palace was littered with men who held allegiance to him and only him. Outnumbered and without knowing whom I could and could not trust, I shrank further into myself as I watched the days bleed into one another.

I did not know how much time had passed when Yåkov barged into my chambers. Three of my sisters were with me then—Jane, Ava, and Sella, who immediately stood in defensive positions as two guards and Leif followed behind him. My sisters' muscles were bunched, and their hands twitched reflexively for a sword or any weapon they could use against him. With a tilt of his head, the two guards walked toward my sisters and ushered them into a corner. It did not escape my attention that they were ushered away from our arms dresser.

Had Leif seen any of us access that dresser? Did he know what was held behind those thick doors? At the time, it did not matter, as my sisters stood trapped in a far corner, away from weapons and in a way, defenseless. Slowly, so as to not attract any additional attention to myself, I shook my head from side to side to signal my sisters to be still.

Fear crept up on me then and choked me within its grasp, and I felt my chest constrict painfully as I worried for their safety and for the first time—my own. I had been curled up on the sitting couch, having finally moved from the firm expanse of the bed, and I watched as the two men I hated approached me. Neither man bowed to me; all signs of formality and respect were completely absent.

"Izabel." Yåkov was the first to speak. His eyes wandered over my body and drank in the still-swollen side of my face and the bruises that had yellowed against my pale skin. The urge to cover myself, protect myself, and cower away from this man was overwhelming.

_Stand strong._

_Run away!_

_No._

With defiance I did not know I still possessed, I jutted my chin out toward the man. "Yåkov," I answered, my voice gravelly and thick from disuse.

He arched an eyebrow at me while Leif covered his mouth to at least attempt to hide the chuckles that escaped his lips. The two men eyed one another before returning their gaze to me once more. "I had expected to find you in a better spirit," he began.

"Do you mean a more pliant spirit? More subservient? Willing to bend to your will?" I bit back my anger.

"Well, yes. To be blunt, I had hoped you had learned a valuable lesson and would, moving forward, be more compliant. But my dear, I did not come to fight with you. You have had time, I hope, to think on our last meeting. And it is time for me to set forth some expectations." His lips turned up in a patronizing smile one would hold for a disobedient child. Then he turned and sat next to me on the cushion.

My mind flashed to the last time we sat here together, I still with my belief that he was a good man. Disillusion colored my memories of that day, when we had sat together happily discussing and planning for the Hunt. Then my memories swirled and twisted and suddenly Jarpr was there, trembling and gloriously angry. And how I wished for his great anger to fill this room now, as if the mere memory of his trembling form and enraged snarls would spirit him to me and save me from the here and now.

"Wife, you will be obedient to me. Disobedience, as you have learned, will result in swift and decisive punishment." His hand ventured down and touched my bruised cheek. "When you are healed, I will call you to my bed." Slowly, his hand caressed my flesh, and I swallowed heavily, choking the bile down. Then his hands tangled in my hair and gripped tightly, painfully close to my scalp. Hot tears stung the corner of my eyes as he pulled and yanked my head to the side, and I bit down on my cheek to keep from crying out. "You _will_ come." The threat hung in the air. I would come when called, or I would be brought—however unwillingly—to him. The latter would hold dark consequences.

Weeks passed, and with each passing day, my people grew hungrier and angrier. I clung to my new _obedient _routine, my only hope for keeping my head above water. Oh, how I wanted to release my grasp—to let go and drown—yet each day I forced myself to move, to work, to live. No longer trusting anyone except my sisters, I remained aloof and secluded.

It had been less than two months since _he_ left when the first rumors of a rebellion reached my ears. The people on the boundaries were starving and had now resorted to pillaging and stealing from the bordering settlements of Tyr's kingdom. I flinched—this could easily escalate to a war between the two kingdoms if it was not quickly addressed. Yet how would I stop this seemingly inevitable war between the lands? How could I stop the people from raiding the castle? Should I even try?

A war would mean lives lost. Land plundered. People left more destitute than they already were. Yes, I would have to appear before Yåkov again and attempt to rectify the situation. Obviously, I would need be more strategic in my approach and not go before him alone. Fear engulfed my senses as I considered approaching the man I had steadily avoided, who I hoped had turned to concubines and forgotten my existence. However, I knew I had to find the courage to face him and plead for the starving people of our kingdom.

Two days after that first rumor reached me, I dressed in merchant robes and carried baskets of food—wheat, bread, and various vegetables—to be distributed to the people already gathered at the walls. My feet felt heavy as Ava, Nada, and I walked the path to the outer walls of the palace. Inside, my heart ached as I observed the large crowd gathered. So many hungry people.

"How fare your people, old woman?" I inquired of an elderly woman who looked to be in her later years of life. Her back was hunched over, and her weather-worn fingers grasped a heavy basket that brimmed with carrots and bread. In spite of her years, I could see a faded beauty beneath her wrinkles: clear skin and thick silver hair framed her features, gray eyes shone from her face, and a grateful smile graced her lips. Her body was slim, like so many of the people who congregated each day, but her posture was strong. It conveyed her aura of quiet strength.

Kindly, she looked into my shadowed face, which was covered with the threadbare robes and shawl of a commoner. "Not so good, my dear. I fear this kingdom will fall before I pass into Sovngarde. I fear the sun will soon set on Dagez." Her head shook as she considered the end of my kingdom.

"Surely it is not that bad, is it, old woman?" My voice shook with fear and uncertainty that I vainly tried to hide.

Sympathetically, her worn hand patted my arm in comfort. "It will be war," she explained. "The outer regions pillage the farms and lands of Tyr, and their King will not stand for it." No—no ruler worth his salt would stand for such action against his people.

"Do you know of the King there?" I asked, desperate for any information. Apart from the stories Jarpr had shared with me, little was known about our neighboring country. In my lifetime, I knew not of any wars or uprisings within or around their borders. They lived in peace and solidarity. Not once had my father ventured into their lands, nor had any representatives from Tyr ventured to ours.

Tyr had plagued my thoughts, and I often wondered if Jarpr had been sent from the realm, or if it had been a ruse to gain entry into the kingdom. How long ago it seemed when I had believed the lie: Jarpr, a servant sent from King Vanir as a wedding present. The lie had expanded as the relationship between the servant and me became more complicated. No, not a servant, but a member of the guard and a spy. Then, the reality of _what_ he was came to fruition: he was not even from Tyr; he was a god who had taken notice of my kingdom. Following the revelation that he was not a mortal servant, he had never again mentioned the land of Tyr or King Vanir. Whenever he spoke of his impending departure, it had always been "I am expected" or "return to my family." Never again did I hear of him reporting news to a King. Did he return with information? If so, to whom did he return with the information? Did the gods plan to act upon the information he had gathered? Or would he return home, share his tale with them, and then forget about me—yet another mortal who had fallen in love with him? Whispers in the night of his love for me and his possession of me rose up in my memory; they fought the insecurity within me with a loud proclamation that I _was_ his, just as he was mine. The yawning void between us seemed insurmountable—my heat to his cold—and while I still believed he did love me, that belief was dwindling over time as the days crept by and I remained, alone.

The old woman was silent while I thought, hesitant to share her knowledge. After some thought she nodded her head. "Do you know the stories of that realm?" Her whispers were conspiratorial.

My mind returned to the late evenings when Jarpr had attended me and to the stories he had shared in hushed tones as I drifted to sleep. "I know some of them—of their lore. I also know that, like us, they believe their kings and queens are appointed by gods to protect their people."

She shook her head. "Yes. The royals there are quite protective of their people. Whenever the people have been threatened by others, whether it was by nomads or another kingdom, they have been brutal in their retaliation."

Brutal? I could not imagine the kingdom Jarpr had described as brutal. A kingdom that educated their serfs and bards seemed a far cry from a barbaric society. Of course, knowing that Jarpr was a god and not a serf or a bard made me wonder if the servants were actually educated, or if that had been a part of Jarpr's ruse.

"Tyr was not always a large kingdom. It used to be restricted to the lands surrounding the Isa mountains, but when the soldiers of the neighboring kingdom invaded their lands to plunder their food and silver, Tyr's ruling family first slaughtered every guard within their land and then raided the castle afterward. I fear if our King or Queen does not act soon, it will be too late."

Fear coursed through my veins like a winter wind, and I shivered. The old woman nodded with understanding: we had unknowingly attracted not only the attention of the gods, but the wrath of the neighboring kingdom.

She gathered her basket and began her journey home. Did she return home to a husband? Children? Did she worry about the days and weeks to come? With her belief that war would soon be upon us, did she hold her loved ones tighter at night? Were kisses sweeter? Did they linger longer?

The shadow of war and all that it carried trailed heavily behind me. Whom would I hold tighter at night or linger longer with each day? Only my sisters. With only the Valkyrie would I spend that precious time.

With a sigh, I turned from the once happy entrance of the palace that loomed before me and toward the woods. So many thoughts danced and swirled around in my mind, and I knew I would need to have them sorted before the meeting with my sisters.

It was late _ρorri_, and the leaves had fallen from the reaching branches of the trees long ago. The ground crunched beneath my feet as I walked, and it sounded loud in my ears. Though my wounds had healed from the violent encounter with Yåkov, my body still ached with soreness. Each step was an exercise of my muscles, and I reminded myself that it was a good pain. It was a reminder of what I had faced and what I had survived. Chills shook my body as I acknowledged the pain of another, darker reminder: a reminder that soon, I would be called to my husband's bed.

I passed under the old oak trees, past the stream, and deeper into the forest. Just beyond the sloping hills was the place my father had often brought me to meditate on affairs and to draw strength from the Earth. More than ever before, I wished to tap into the magic of the realm and to know the right path, whatever the cost. My world had spun out of control so rapidly that I hardly believed it possible. Yet here I stood, on the precipice of war.

An old oak tree stood vigilant next to the alcove of my childhood, and I could almost see my father and myself stretched beneath its wide branches and cool shade. Here, he had taught me what it meant to lead a kingdom: to care for people more than myself. Yet even here, Yåkov's influence made me shudder, and despite my raw muscles I climbed the tree to a higher branch and rested against its trunk. My body sagged with the relief it felt of being hidden among the winter sky. "Father," I whispered. "Please help me know what to do. Our people are in need, and I feel so lost, like a ship at sea with no direction. For once, I am afraid—afraid to act, afraid to remain silent. Yet while I hide away, while I go through the motions of everything you have taught me, people are hurting—they are dying." A sob rose in my chest, but determined I pushed it back down. "They are dying terrible deaths, and we are all faced with the very real possibility of a battle with those previously considered allies."

The wind blew through the trees, and the leaves that remained on the ground and in the branches swayed with the gentle caress. Though my limbs were cold from the winter air, my lungs and chest burned with the ache and struggle for escape. I sat there in the branches while I considered the options available: run, fight, or stay just as I was and allow the future to rush in and greet me.

I could run to Tyr—seek refuge from my husband and peace for my people. I could attempt to discover if Jarpr had told me any truth, if his home was in Tyr. Following any negotiations or agreements I came to with King Vanir, should Jarpr not be found in Tyr, I could move on—continue my search for him. Something whispered in my mind that should I walk outside the boundaries of my land—to any land—he would come to me. I needed only to cross that invisible line, and he would appear. The temptation throbbed hotly in my chest. This cavern roared to life as I imagined his cold arms encased around me in such a bittersweet moment.

I could disappear.

Run away.

Never look back.

It would be easy enough to steal away in the middle of the night. From arrogance or a surety that I had nowhere else to run, Yåkov had no guards watching my doors. No one would notice my departure until I had gained a whole night's headstart. The borders of my realm beckoned me like a siren, their song beautiful and haunting on the winds that continued to dance and sway with the trees.

_"Come to me," _they sang. _"I'm here; come to me."_ Their beautiful voices rang out, seductive in their call. Golden eyes seemed to hover in my vision, ghostly hands seemed to blaze across my skin, and the hum that had fallen quiet the morning Jarpr had departed moaned and begged to be heard.

I wanted to go to them. Damn the future. Misery seemed to imprison me here, suffocate me, and drown me in its bottomless, black void. Violence played itself out in my mind, like a story about which the bards sang in their whimsical songs. This song, however, was dark with the fate that befell those who angered a god, and would be a warning to future generations. I could see it all play out, clearly as if it were a memory rather than a black thought that whispered and tempted my mind: Jarpr's righteous anger pouring out upon the palace, fires blazing, blood running—his otherworldly nature held at bay no longer. It would be glorious: the power he would wield as he crashed through the palace, eyes dark with blood lust and glorious rage sloshing over the sides of his being, as without mercy he tore through the humans that stood in his path. Broken bodies of men would litter the courtyards and halls, and death would descend swiftly and mightily with its unyielding, god-given sword. He would see that the guilty paid for their monstrous actions against the innocent. A memory stirred, of his anger with the guards and the calmness he had displayed as he discussed their deaths. It was almost as if he had been discussing what the evening meal held in store or the approaching weather. Death, I believed, was no stranger to him, and he would slip into that role of avenger so easily. It would be as easy as breathing for him, except that I had noticed on occasion that he did not breathe.

_So easy_.

It would be so easy to leave it all behind, walk away, and rush into his waiting arms. I could see us happy together, far away from the disrepair of Dagez and far away from anyone who knew my name or who I had been—or what I had done: abandon my people, abandon my sisters.

Because I would make the journey alone. I would command my subjects to flee from the palace and the realm but to leave me to my impossible task: to find one who would only be found if he allowed. And though my heart pleaded with me to listen and to believe that he would want me to find him, there was a part of me that doubted. I doubted he would want me to find him, that he would approve of my abandonment, and that he would be with me after such a betrayal to everything in which I had believed. Surely that righteous anger in which I had but a moment ago reveled would also be directed at me.

All I had was hope and blind faith to will my heart to be right. Both of these told me that Jarpr loved me and would forgive such an unforgivable sin, but unfortunately it was a risk beyond my means. Above all, the cost would befall my people, and selfishly, should my hope yet again be misplaced, it would cost my heart more than what it was able to bear.

That could not be the way. My Father, my people, _my sisters_—theyall deserved far better than my abandonment. I had been born of this land and had played and grown side by side with the children and now adults of this realm. Together we had shared joy, pain, and now sorrow. Together we had mourned the deaths of first my mother and then my father. Together we would stand, and together we would fall. Their fate would be my own.

Honor.

Courage.

Simple words that my father had taught me, both reliant on the other. These words were supposed to remind me to do what was right, no matter the personal cost, to have the strength to move forward, and to know that the difference between fear and courage was action. Courage was never without fear. Rather, it was dependent upon it. Fear fueled courage, for one could not have honor and courage without fear. My cheeks stung as the air blew more fiercely against my dampened cheeks. I had won the battle and did not sob, break down, or even cry; though my body expelled tears of sorrow, pain, and even fear, I knew I would move forward.

I would linger here a bit longer and then return to face my future.

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**A/N:** Are you still with me? What stands out to you about this chapter? This chapter was more about Izabel coming to terms with what has happened, healing, and facing her future. There's a lot revealed in this chapter - did you catch the clues? Don't worry, still plenty of twists and turns throughout this story, even though we are drawing closer and closer to the end. I'm currently still editing Chapter 27, however it looks like the story will draw to a close around 33 chapters. What this means is that there will still be plenty going on that will take us into the second installment. I've got that one outlined and am hopeful to get some chapters started in the next two weeks so that there is as little downtime between stories as possible. Let me know what you're wondering about, what loose ends you think there are, etc. Without giving too much away, I'll try to answer them. :)

**Teasers:** Will be up on Twilight Fic Zone on Sundays and The Fictionators on Mondays. :)

**Story Recs:** With a temp promotion at work and starting a new marketing course, I have not had as much free time to read fics lately. :( When I get time, I've been writing. But I've been revisiting a few old favorites including: _**Hide and Drink**_ by Savage (a Darkward fic worthy of all the awards it received) and if you want a real heart wrenching story (i.e. invest in Kleenex before reading), check out LJ Summer's _**Open Up Next to You**_. Do you have any fic recs for me? I love a good Darkward vamp story and have not found any new lately that have caught my attention, but perhaps I just don't know where to look - so leave me a note in your review with what's on your reading list for the summer. :))

**P.S.** - I'm on the hunt for someone to help ... okay okay - to make a banner for my second installment of Ginnungagap. If you're interested, please let me know - it would greatly appreciated. :)


	26. Chapter 25: Desperate

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight, however the original characters and plot of this story are all mine.

**WARNING:** Later chapters include graphic violence and mention of rape.

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My journey home to safety of my chambers was spent deep in thought and consideration for what I could do to prevent a war within the realm. I doubted Yåkov would work to prevent war with me. Yet, I could not stop this impending war alone. I walked through my chambers absently as I considered different pleas to the King and to my people, yet none of them worked.

"_As Queen, you are a servant to the people. Serve them, Izabel,"_ my father's voice rang clearly in my mind. I would have to serve the people, as he had taught me.

"Valkyries!" my voice rang out through the chamber and called them forth. All were present with solemn faces. "Sit, we have much to discuss," I instructed.

Eight sets of worried orbs peered back at me as I began. "We stand at the threshold of a potential great war. A war, entirely of our own creation, the people at our borders are starving. Their hunger so great, they raid the neighboring settlements from the kingdom of Tyr, and their King will not stand for such an affront." I paused and considered my next words with great care. "It is a war we cannot win," my sisters shifted uncomfortably and I pressed on. "There can be no victors in this battle. Though unlikely, should Dagez and ultimately Yåkov win a fight between the kingdoms, the people will still suffer. They will suffer the consequences of death and loss and with Yåkov's continued reign, they will suffer abuse and neglect. Should Tyr win, the people will be conquered and face a new, unknown ruler. The rumors of Tyr are those of a fierce protector, and I shudder to think of what great anger will bring about."

One by one, I can see the reality of my words sinking into each woman. Their strength and courage seemed to hang onto each of them, clung to them in sheer desperation sparked only by the slightest of hope. "And so my sisters, a great task is left to us – you and I. There is little hope to stop what has already begun, and alone we cannot alter the course that lies before us. But, with help – with others, we can _hope_, we can try for a better future. I have a plan, but we must act quickly and quietly." I paused to face each Valkyrie, what I proposed would be dangerous.

"In a fortnight, you will load as much grain, salted meat, and produce into wagons while I visit the treasury." A collective gasp echoed throughout the room, but I held my hand up to silence them. "I will collect as much hack silver as possible and meet you. We must fill every inch of space and use as few wagons as possible – a caravan will make us obvious, easy to spot, and easy to steal from. We will travel to the borders so we may feed the people and give them as much money as possible so they may survive the winter. We will plead if we must for them to halt all raids on the villages and lands of Tyr," I paused to collect my thoughts. "This will only pause the inevitable, and will purchase time for us to find a more permanent solution."

It was Ava who spoke, "My Queen, if you do this, you know Yåkov will take his wrath out upon you," her tone was worried. Several heads nodded in agreement.

_Fear to act._

Alone in the forest, I had considered this. This one act of disobedience would surely bring about violent anger from Yåkov, and I knew that I had to succeed prior to my return.

"Yes, I know this. Yet, how much worse would the villagers fare? I cannot travel to the palace in Tyr," I paused as my mind inserted its own reasoning - if I traveled to that palace, I may never return. "Even if I did I have no assurance the King would listen to me. I must work with my own people first, and take their punishment as my own."

Ava straightened and her eyes bore into me, "He may _kill_ you, Izabel. We are bound to protect you, how can you expect us to allow such reckless action that will most likely result in your death? You cannot ask this of us. _We_ cannot allow you such great risk." I gazed around the circle of women surrounding me – friends, sisters, and protectors. Conflict seemed to battle within them as they considered the needs of the people I was charged to protect, and the risk to me – the Queen they were charged to protect.

"I do not ask this of you," I answered, "I command it. You do not have to come with me, if this is where our journey ends – so be it. But I will go, and you are not to make any attempts to stop me. The people are my responsibility, and I will see this through, to my end if need be."

The Valkyrie nodded solemnly, each in reluctant agreement to my command. None expressed any desire to depart from our sisterhood, and with relief I knew that each woman would be making the journey with me. The remainder of the evening was spent in preparation for travel; knapsacks were filled with bread and nuts, leather pouches with water. The following day was spent in more external preparation – three wagons and two horses were quietly gathered for the trip and when night fell in the palace, each donned Valkyrie garb. Each woman stood exactly the same as the others – leather leggings with warm wrappings that covered the tops of her boots; a close fitted leather tunic and hood, and then covered with an inky gray cloak. "The Raven be with you my sisters," I whispered. "I will meet you at the wagons. If I do not come by time the moon has reached the top of the sky, go without me. Do what you can and plead with the people." Stiffly, they nodded and quietly we each departed the room.

My body tucked close to the walls as I crept silently through the halls to the treasury. Tied at my sides were two large leather pouches to fill with hock silver for my people, I only hoped it was enough to make a difference. The treasury was held in the tower of the Northern wing – above the King's chambers. To gain entry, I would have to sneak through his chambers and again for my departure. "Odin watch over me," I whispered and rounded the corner at the end of the King's halls. No guards were posted outside his doors, which meant he was not present in the chamber. My heart pounded loudly in my ears with my approach and I strained to listen to the sounds around me. Outside the calls of the night creatures in the gardens below, the hall was quiet. Gently and soundlessly as I was able, I pushed the thick, heavy chamber door open. Slowly, I peered around the thick door to observe the darkened room. Not a single candle had been lit – further evidence that Yåkov was not present. My body hugged the edge of the door while I pushed it closed.

The room was bathed in darkness, for which I was glad. These were my father's chambers and I knew them – even in the dark. I closed my eyes and toed through the room with my memory until I met the far wall where the door the tower was located. My fingers splayed across the cold stones as I slid across the wall in search of the handle. As an adult, I had only entered the treasury once and my memory had faded as to the exact location of the entryway. My fingers brushed against cold steel and I knew I had found the entrance. I pulled, then stilled as the door groaned in protest. Every nerve in my body was on high alert as I strained to hear any noise of an approach. Nothing. Silence filled the night air. I pulled the handle again and opened the door far enough to slip through and closed it quickly behind me.

The stairs to the treasury wound in a loose spiral to the top of the tower and I raced to the top. I knew Yåkov's absence from his rooms was limited, and I needed to leave as quickly as possible. At the top of the stairs sat the treasury, which should have been guarded – but here as well was deserted. Rather than wonder where the guards were, I accepted the blessing and quickly filled my leather sacks with hack silver. My task complete, I made the journey back to the chambers – through the rooms, and out the chamber door. As I slid the door closed I heard footsteps approaching and knew my time had expired. I flitted to the balcony across the hall and hid in the shadows behind the thick stone.

Two guards, laughing, were returning to the King's chambers. They entered the chambers, an advantage I took and ran down the hall to corner. Rounding the corner, I pressed my back to the wall while I struggled to control my breathing. My lungs screamed at me for more air, but I was not yet safe – I had to maintain my quietness. _Move! Run!_ My body screamed for me to move forward, to flee – to ensure my own safety. And so I did.

The Valkyrie met me outside the walls, just past the stables. Nada and I mounted the two horses, while Ava and the others each boarded the three wagons. Hidden beneath the blankets of the wagons were weapons – bows, swords, and knives. Each had packed water in their leather pouches with bread to eat during the journey. We each understood there would be few stops before we reached the outer farms and settlements.

Nada and I rode in the front – scouts to ensure the safe passage of our small band. The wagons forced us to remain on the old, dirt roads that led between the villages and farmlands separated by the thick foliage of the forest. It was a dangerous journey – the unknown looming ahead and the threat of discovery chasing at the heels of our small band. Distance had to be created between the palace at our backs and the angry King that resided in its arms. And so, we had to keep moving, pressing forward despite any tiredness or weariness from the long night of travel. When the sun's morning rays spilled over the Isa range, we were only half a day's ride from the furthest village. "Highness," Nada spoke in hushed terms, "we should stop for a spell – refill our water and allow the horses to rest."

Every instinct screamed in my body to not stop.

_More distance!_

That voice in my head screamed out, but I knew that she was correct. If we pushed the horses too far without any relief, they could become too tired and easily overtaken if any approached. I nodded as we turned the horses back to the entourage behind us. Ava was in the first wagon and we informed her of our plans, Nada and I would scout ahead for water. In the mean time, the Valkyries were to be on their guard for thieves or soldiers – be it from Dagez or Tyr.

My head jerked to the West as I strained to listen for a stream as it dribbled past. Nada followed my lead as I dismounted the horse and tied the reins to a nearby tree. The leaves and dried branches snapped under the soft leather of my boots as I inched forward. Just off from the road was a small stream, most likely melted snow moving downhill. I jerked my head at Nada who nodded and returned to the road to direct the group to the stream.

Pebbles crunched under the wheels of the wagons as they pulled to a slow stop. The sound of grass crunching filled the air as the horses bent their necks down for nourishment and their teeth grinding it down. After refilling my water pouch, I sat on a nearby boulder and stretched my aching legs, curled my toes, and pointed my feet down to lengthen each muscle. I leaned back against the boulder and watched each woman stretch their sore muscles, refill their pouches, and eat their breads. Cata removed the two horses' saddles and blankets and ran a hand along their backs soothingly. The sounds of my sisters who walked about, ate their food, and murmured gratefully as they stretched sore legs soothed my senses. My eyes fluttered close as I relaxed into the forest ground and firm, yet familiar feel of the cold bolder beneath my back.

He haunted me every time my eyes closed and unconsciousness stole away my defenses. In my dreams, he made love to me over and over, while his musical voice whispered his devotion. Chilled caresses ghosted across my skin as he explored my so very willing body. Moans escaped my lips and I ached for him. The abrupt awakening as Ava shook me awake dispelled the haunting images. "Highness, it is time to move." The sun had shifted slightly in the sky above us and only a handful of hours remained for the light.

I nodded my head as I brought myself to my feet. My arms extended above my head in a languid stretch, like a feline awoken from a deep sleep. The horses were untied and prepared to continue our journey.

When we arrived in the first settlement, Stông, it was nearly nightfall. With limited time before the guards were alerted to our presence, we had decided to distribute the food and continue moving as deep into the night as possible. Two wagons remained hidden in the woods on the opposite end of the lands and farms and six of the Valkyrie remained there to protect the supplies. I had climbed into the wagon, while Ava and Nada rode the two horses ahead into the village.

"Ava and Nada, go spread the word to the people we have arrived with supplies, I'll take the wagon to the marketplace, meet me there." Each nodded and turned their horses towards the farms while I guided the wagon forward.

The market place was in ruins and spoke of several months of disuse. My heart broke at the thoughts swimming through my mind. How long had their settlement been in shambles? It could not have been too long, could it? My sisters had visited this land prior to the onset of winter, had spent time in each region helping prepare the people for winter. Did the people have anything left? Who was the Jarl for this region? Anger flared beneath my skin as I considered the neglect from the Jarl. Upon return, I would have to find a more permanent solution for these people – even if it meant another trip in the darkness – only this time to the lands of Tyr. It was a trip I both yearned to make and wanted to avoid at all costs. My will was weak and so it was best to remain away from the temptation those lands – any lands free of Yåkov, held for me. No – if it came to that, I would send someone in my stead, someone to beg for and plead for my kingdom on my behalf. I would not tempt what little control I retained, I would remain in my lands at the side of my people to meet the fate that awaited us.

A branch snapped behind me and I turned on my heel towards the sound. My sword rested at my hip and my hand twitched forward to grip it. In the dwindling light my eyes strained to make out any forms in the area.

There was nothing, but silence and the wind that met my ears.

I was suddenly very aware how close I was to the boundary of my land and my heart ached at the memory of Jarpr. _Please let him have made it home – wherever that may be - safely. _The feel of his strong hands circled about my waist as he pulled me closer filled my senses. "I miss you," I whispered to the wind. My thoughts were abruptly cut off as the sound of people approaching reached my ears.

The people looked too thin, gaunt faces with skin that looked stretch too tightly over their frames entered my line of sight. Their clothes were tattered and dirty and their eyes held their exhaustion. I forced my lips into a smile, and began to hand out food to each family. As they approached I asked them to stay until the food had been distributed and promised news from the Queen. Their angry, surprised faces did not escape my observation and I flinched inwardly. Nada and Ava returned and took over my duties of handing out the food and supplies we carried as I walked to the middle of the people gathered.

"People of Stông, hear me and hear the news I carry from the Queen!" A hush fell over the crowd as the people quieted in anticipation of my words. "The Queen has heard the news of the state of your devastation and works within the palace to find a solution. Yet, she requires time to return your settlement to its former glory and abundance. If our people continue to raid the land inside Tyr's borders, she will not have the time needed. If the raids and pillaging continues, the King of Tyr will bring his guards and soldiers here and leave utter ruin in his wake. The Queen implores you; to stay these raids, give her the time she needs to find a solution. Do not tempt the hand of fate, or your lands will surely be sacked. She has sent us with these supplies and some silver in hopes to assist you through this winter. What say you people of Stông? Will you cease these raids? Leave the people of Tyr in peace?"

An eerie quiet remained after I finished speaking, before murmurs began to circulate through the group. A young man stepped forward, too thin like the others of the village, "Milady, how can we be sure that the Queen cares one way or the other about us? While she remains safe and comfortable in the palace, her husband sends his guards and Jarls to rob us of our food and silver. They burn temples and kill children! We are already left in ruin, and it was at the hands of our own rulers." His head bowed he backed away slowly, but as I scanned the crowd several villagers nodded their heads in agreement.

"You think your Queen has forgotten you?" I ask – straining my voice to rise above a whisper. Shock seeps through me as the weight of the how completely I failed the people descended upon me.

"Yes!" they reply in unison.

"The King before, he never forgot us! His daughter has! They have no honor! Only pillage us as common thieves!" Another voice rings out.

"And what of your thievery from the land of Tyr? How does that hold honor?" I answer. The village quiets again as the acknowledgement of their actions sweeps over them as a blanket.

A small child steps forward and looks at me, "Milady, why has our Queen forgotten us? My mother told me the royal family always cared about us before."

"She has not forgotten you dear one," I whisper and stroke her dirty face. I reach into my sack and wet a cloth with some water from my pouch and clean her face, then pull bread from my knapsack at my other hip and press into her hand. "She has never stopped fighting for you."

"You lie! She sends pretty faces to spread pretty words, but they are empty, hollow promises! We have no reason to believe she or the King cares what happens to us!" The villagers agree with this anonymous voice and anger rises in me again. Anger seems to spread, like the tumbling of blocks one upon the other, through the crowd. It infects and eats away at each person it touches, and breaths down on us from the sky. The crowd grows louder – angry cries and accusations are spit at my sisters and I. Worry radiates from Nada who speeds to my side – her head shook back and forth, her lips formed a silent, "no" to discourage any further action.

"The food has been distributed, let us leave and move to the next settlement. Please, do not be rash," she whispers in my ear.

Disjointed, angry words seem to rise up from the group and kiss my ears. Can I leave now; leave them with their tainted views? If I leave now – I leave them angry. Angry at their rulers, angry at their circumstances, and angry with Tyr. The attacks will undoubtedly continue, and no ground will have been gained with this visit.

I made a rash and most likely unwise decision.

I pulled the hood from my face.

"I am your Queen!" I announce and the crowd quiets again, some moving to their knees to bow in my presence while other defiantly stand. "No! Get up! Do not bow to me!" I shout. "Please, I beseech you – believe me, I will find a solution, but you must give me more time. War would ravage our country; so many lives would be lost – innocent ones would be lost in the battles. I will approach the King of Tyr if I must, but please – give me time!"

The elderly woman spoke again, "Leave us my Queen," and held her palm up to silence me as I shook my head in objection, "leave _now_, Highness. The guards of Tyr are already here and among us. Flee, milady."

_They're already here._

_The people knew they had arrived._

_They may be in this crowd this very moment._

"I do not understand. We can protect you! _I_ can protect you! Return to your homes, we will fight them – my guards and I will not allow them to harm you or take your lands."

Another voice in the crowd spoke, "They cannot take what was freely given. You are our Queen, no longer. We have pledged our lands to the Kingdom of Tyr, it is he who will protect us. Leave, Majesty – please flee and protect yourself." Nada and Ava both tugged at my arms for me to depart; yet shock stilled me to the ground.

"Highness, we must leave. The guards of Tyr could already be here or be on their way, we must leave!" Nada's hands were insistent as she attempted to tug me away.

_No._

My mind kept me anchored in my position, my body refused to move – even an inch – away from the people.

A voice rose in the air then, one filled with authority, and the crowd instantly quieted. My sisters, sensing the wrongness, instantly reached for the swords at their hips, ready to defend me if needed. "So the Queen has ventured from the high walls of her castle," the voice boomed.

Around me, the people parted a path for a man. Clothed in a dark burgundy kyrtill lined with deep golden braided thread, the fabric stretched tightly across his chest, whispering of the plains and tight muscles found beneath the fabric. His over tunic stopped mid thigh, and tight, dark leather trousers covered his legs, with burgundy wrappings covering his calves, the toes of his leather boots peeking out. Before my eyes swept up to his head, I knew what I would find – a dark woolen hood would cover his head. I knew this uniform.

It was the uniform of Tyr.

It was the uniform Jarpr had worn everyday in his service.

They were here.

* * *

**A/N:** Did you think Izabel was going to willingly comply and await rescue? Remember she started this story as a strong woman - a little overly confident of her own abilities, but a strong woman nonetheless. Also remember that this story is about her growing up, maturing, and the journey of the woman she becomes. We will see more of this a little later. Just stay tuned. ;-)

Can you believe we only have 8 more chapters until the end?!

**Teasers:** Teasers are now posted: Sundays at Twilight Fic Zone, Mondays at the Fictionators, and Wednesdays at Fic Central. Since I post on Tuesdays, you will see the NEXT chapter's teaser on Wednesdays at Fic Central (i.e. tomorrow Fic Central will have a teaser for Chapter 26 up).

**Fic Recs: **Still trying to get all caught up on reading. However, I did read _To You From Me_ by OhThoseGoldenEyes. Just a heads up - looks like an abandoned fic, but has a lot of promise. It's inspired by the novel _Stolen. _The story is written as a letter from Bella to her kidnapper, Edward. I am following the story in hopes that like, _Cullen Girl_, it will be finished eventually. Perhaps if enough of us leave her a review and ask her to finish she'll start posting again. :) To feed my need in the meantime, I've downloaded _Stolen_ from Audible. As always, I appreciate any recs you leave me, I prefer AU Darkward fics, but am willing to try new things. :)

**Historical Notes of Interest:** Most of the historical facets were covered in the first half of the book, they were the foundations needed to create the culture and introduce readers to the social environment and expectations of the time. Here, we see the Queen out among the people - offering to fight alongside them to protect their lands. This is historically accurate. Leaders were in fact expected to fight alongside their people - that was how they gained honor, respect, and loyality. Viking kings would raid with their people and considered it an honor to die in battle or raids, and a shame to remain at their palaces while others risked their lives and they risked nothing.

**Reviews: **I'm going to be a little shameless here and I can tell you I am already blushing. I cannot tell you how much your reviews have meant to me. THANK YOU so much for breaking over 100 reviews for Ginnungagap. When I began this story, I could only hope that someone out there would read it and enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And for anyone whose reviews I have not answered, please be assured I WILL answer you. I've been looking for some additional websites to pimp my fic out on, but am not Google savvy - do you have any recommendations? Thank you again for all your support. I cannot wait to read your feedback - good, bad, or ugly and please know how much each and every review is appreciated.

Humbly,

AJ


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